


Romance Awareness Month

by futureboy (PokeRowan)



Series: Romance Awareness Month (August 2017) [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: (over a month lmao), Bisexuality, Celebrations, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Holidays, Jeremy is a kind soul, M/M, Original kids and ex-partner for Ryan so dw, Past Abortion, Past Unhealthy Relationship, Post-Divorce, Slow Build, single dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 31,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11665914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PokeRowan/pseuds/futureboy
Summary: The whole office has to deal with Jeremy celebrating weird holidays, every day, for a month. It's a welcome distraction for Ryan, who's dealing with a whole bunch of crap that he doesn't wanna talk about.Updated [mostly] every day in August. Thanks for tagging along for the ride, y'all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [RPF disclaimer: Written according to guidelines set by RT employees (to the best of my knowledge). This is a fictional series of events using characters inspired by real people.]
> 
> Still writing this, so anything could happen. This is kind of a challenge for me where I see if I can crank out this stuff, despite a) being abroad until the 14th, and b) having a full time job the rest of the month.
> 
> Wish me luck! And let me know what you think! :)

**July 31 st – Monday**

Ryan has a system going now.

He drops off his kids to school during term time, drives to work, pulls random shit with his colleagues until five PM hits, and then heads home to relieve the nanny of her duties.

He doesn't make his wife coffee in the morning, or text her at lunch to see how her day's going, because he and Natalie have been separated for several months now.

The system works, for the time being.

Geoff agreed to cut his hours down a little, so he that he can spend weekends with his children, and drop them off to spend the next seven days with their mother.

(The system works, and he's _fine_.)

The rest of the office know about his divorce, for sure, but they don't mention it. He kind of appreciates it - a lot, in fact - because a billion people asking him _how he's holding up, let them know if there's anything he needs, okay?_ isn't something he wants to deal with on an hourly basis. It's just how things are.

He's fine. Absolutely and definitely fine.

So fine that he barely even looks forward to every Friday, when they’re filming AHWU and he unwraps a shitload of weapons and medical supplies, from violent and worried fans respectively. AHWU’s pretty fun as it is, anyways – hence why he’s started to appear on it every week, after swearing blindly that he never would – but he always looks forward to the end of the video, and the return to his desk.

Someone keeps sneaking tiny post it notes onto his monitor.

They come in all sorts of colours, but are always adorned with the same smiley face in thick, purple sharpie.

Ryan’s fine.

(So spectacularly fine, in fact, that he doesn’t save them all in the top drawer of his filing cabinet, to glance at on difficult Monday mornings, after he’s dropped off his kids back at their mother's for the week.)


	2. Chapter 2

**August 1 st \- Tuesday**

 

“Where did everyone get pie from?” Ryan says, to several people over the course of that particular lunchtime, and receives no certain answer.

“There’s pie?” asks Michael, his full attention captured.

“Someone better bring _me_ pie,” is Jack’s response. (More of a warning, really.)

Gavin shrugs when Ryan asks him, and makes an _I-don’t-know_ noise without looking up from his screen.

“Oh,” says Lindsay, spooning cake into her mouth, “Jeremy brought it in. It’s raspberry. We’re not allowed to give it to the guys.”

“ _What?_ Why not?”

“Something about it being National Girlfriends Day.”

Well, Ryan thinks, that explains why none of the guys in the office had been able to offer up an answer. Come to think of it, he _had_ only seen the women of Rooster Teeth eating dessert today.

When he arrives on set for The Know, he approaches a trio behind the cameras.

“So they’re for you,” Jeremy’s saying. “They haven’t poisoned anyone yet… Oh, hey, Ryan, how’s it going?”

“Pie would help,” Ryan supplies.

From beside Mica, Kdin pipes up: “sorry, Ryan,” she says, “Jeremy made it specially. We can’t give it to the guys. I think he’s about to make us form a blood pact, it’s a big deal--”

“ _I’ll_ share with you, Ry--”

“Like hell you will,” Jeremy says, grinning at Mica. “Rules are rules.”

Ryan chuckles. “You enjoy your cake,” he tells Mica and Kdin, and the two wander onto set with forks and chatter. Jeremy watches them go with the biggest beam on his face.

“What’s the verdict, d’ya reckon?”

“The ladies love you, and the men are a little more… confused,” Ryan tries.

Jeremy _cackles_.

“Yeah, that sounds about how it usually goes. _Damn_.”

He tries his very best not to ugly-snort, but fuck, Ryan can’t help it. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” he laughs. “Or is it some big, weird secret?”

“Oh, no,” Jeremy says dismissively, “it’s National Girlfriends Day _and_ National Raspberry Cream Pie Day. I made a _fuckload_ of pie last night, and brought it in for my friends. Pretty simple, really.”

“Yeah, pretty simple,” Ryan echoes, “except, _why_ , though?”

Jeremy tears his eyes away from Mica and Kdin, and looks Ryan straight in the eye.

“Just… ‘cos. I thought it’d be nice.”

Ryan’s taken aback by this, because it’s the fucking sweetest thing he’s heard all week.

“That’s _really_ nice. What the hell, Lil J, is everything alright? Like, health wise?”

“I’m not leaving a damn _will_ , Ryan, I just made a bit of pie,” Jeremy snorts. “I’m thinking of coming up with something for every day.”

“…Can you do that?”

Jeremy shrugs. “There’s a _lot_ of weird holidays, dude. Hey… I think Kdin’s shouting at you, you must be on.”

And by the time Ryan’s ready to record, Jeremy’s totally disappeared from the wings.

(Not that he looks for him. No way.)

He traipses back to the Achievement Hunter office, fully set on buying cake on the way home to satisfy his sweet tooth, and meanders over to his desk – where there’s usually a small heap of AHWU packages with his name printed on them, there’s a tiny box, instead.

His cell phone buzzes with a message.

 

**Jeremy Dooley: It’s the last slice, so don’t tell the others, girlfrieeennnddd**

 

On the other side of the room, Jeremy snorts at the look on his face.

That’s so fucking kind of him. Ryan shoots him a blinding smile. He can’t promise himself that he _won’t_ still buy cake on his journey from work, though.


	3. Chapter 3

**August 2 nd – Wednesday**

 

Ryan wakes up, and puts his children’s favourite school clothes through the laundry, and listens to the sounds of them not being present to fight over cereal and showering. He doesn’t listen to the radio, because that’s what they sing along to in the car.

He doesn’t turn on the TV, because that’s where cartoons can be watched, and it’ll just make him sad.

The way into work is filled with a craving for sugar. Maybe it’s the lack of cereal – he opted for toast instead of chocolately crunchy things this morning, the name of the brand escaping him – or maybe it’s the comfort he needs. A week’s worth of silence isn’t a break, when you’re a single dad and the only other thing you’ve brought up in your life is an unnameable sadness.

So he gets into work, and is immediately greeted with a freezer which didn’t exist the day before.

“It’s so hot,” Gavin whines. He’s got the door held wide – it’s one of those cube-shaped ones which opens from the top – and every time a wave of freezing air washes over his face, he sighs with pure contentment.

“Shut the fucking door, Gavin, all my stuff is gonna melt.”

“Oooo, whatcha got, Lil J?” Jack asks with interest, and _that_ is what piques Ryan’s interest too, because he already knows it must be for some wacky holiday.

Jeremy tries his best to supress a smile. “Uh,” he says, “it’s something for later. No point getting it out now when the temperature’s gonna peak after lunch. Get _out_ , Gav, I swear to god--”

“Did you bring in food _again_?”

“No,” Jeremy tells Michael, too quickly, and Ryan flushes. The others don’t know, or haven’t remembered, that Jeremy’s got a month-long holiday plan. Which means that maybe he didn’t let anyone else know about what he was doing yesterday. Sure, he mentioned National Girlfriends Day, but it’s entirely possible that he only told Ryan he was keeping up for the whole of August.

He’s not really sure how to feel about that.

Lunchtime comes and goes, and Geoff is practically vibrating in his seat by the time Jeremy pulls open their new chest freezer – how long until that broke, by the way? – and oh my god they’re _ice-cream sandwiches._

“ _Jeremy_!” Gavin says, positively delighted, “these are _amazing_!”

“Oh my god,” moans Michael thickly.

“Are you already eating yours? I don’t wanna have to eat it. They’re so _cute_ , boi, look at the little Achievement Hunter star in the middle--!”

Jack looks at Jeremy in awe. “You _must_ have made these,” he says, “they’re really goddamn good, Lil J. Great fucking job, man.”

“I… Yeah, I made them,” he replies, embarrassed, “I got the idea when I saw these custom cookie cutters online… So I got them made in the Achievement Hunter logo and baked cookie sandwiches.”

He turns his back on everyone crowded around the freezer, and passes an ice cream sandwich over to Ryan, who’s been lingering behind them all awkwardly.

“Hey, thanks,” he says, accepting it. “Did you… Did you make the ice cream, too?”

Jeremy laughs loudly. “Oh, _hell_ no, even vanilla would be too difficult for me right now. Maybe someday. Pfffft.”

Apparently, Jeremy’s cut out blocks of ice cream into circular slices, and sandwiched them each side with a homemade Achievement Hunter cookie. They’re _pristine_. How he got them to survive the day without being eaten or broken, Ryan couldn’t figure out, but there’s no denying that Jeremy’s a damn good cook.

“I’m gonna give some to the other office,” he grins, heaving the box out of the freezer. “And guys?”

Ryan looks up, and wipes a streak of melting ice cream from his top lip.

“Happy National Ice Cream Sandwich Day,” Jeremy grins, letting the whole sentence blur into a rapid-fire mess of syllables, and backing out of the room entirely.

 

“…Tell Trevor to give Jeremy a raise,” Geoff says with his mouth full.


	4. Chapter 4

**August 3rd - Thursday**

 

“Watermelon?” Ryan asks flatly.

“Yup. Watermelon,” replies Jeremy. He unwraps his slice from the foil and takes an enormous, juice-filled bite.

Ryan does the same. They’re sitting in the shade out back of Stage 5, where Jeremy said he wanted to share snacks, because ‘otherwise there might not be any left when you stop being polite and ask for some’.

“National _Watermelon_ Day?”

“You know a lot of these aren’t real, like, _legal_ holidays?” Jeremy says. “Most of them haven’t been established by an act of congress. Maybe this is the one we should fight for, so it has proper recognition.”

“I think congress has enough on their plate,” Ryan says thoughtfully, and crunches the seeds.

Jeremy laughs. It’s contagious, Ryan decides. Symptoms include smiling at the very sound of his friend being an idiot, or being too kind.

“How’s life, man?”

“Ehh,” Ryan says. He makes a non-committal hand gesture, and takes another bite of the cool watermelon.

“Sorry,” says Jeremy, and sounds like he means it. This is what Ryan likes about him; he never uses that special voice, the gentle, ‘ _I’m going to ask casually about a loaded topic’_ voice. He sounds normal, and never pretends the situation is anything less than what it is – a colossal heap of horse shit, to be precise.

“You got the kids this week?”

“Nah, they’re at Natalie’s. She never tells me what her plans are for them, so it’s hard to take them on trips and stuff, too, which is really pissing me off.”

Jeremy crinkles up the foil with his spare hand, despite the fact that he has half a slice left. “That’s _bullshit_. I bet you could come up with something really cool she’d never think of. Is she the kind of woman who buys her way into their happiness?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“You gotta go homemade, man,” he grins. “Make an obstacle course in the back yard. Or a treasure hunt. Movies and day trips are great, but spending time together is way better. Those are my favourite memories from when I was a kid.”

Ryan spits a seed clear across the concrete. “Might need some help with that,” he smiles, watching the little black pip skitter to a halt.

“Oh, man. We’re the _Battle Buddies_ , Ryan, we could make a _killer_ obstacle course together.”

Jeremy launches a seed with more force than a casual launch would require. Oh, this was _so_ on. “Them’s fighting spits, Dooley,” Ryan snickers, and in no time at all, they’re lobbing tiny organic projectiles across the asphalt.

Jeremy wins.

(It’s a fair victory, too. Why wouldn’t it be?)

Ryan finds himself forgetting entirely about the quiet, watermelon-devoid house that awaits him after five PM. It’s a welcome change, not to have it spiking in the back of his mind every time he lets himself have fun again; even as Jeremy tries to force ‘something goddamn plant-based’ down Matt’s throat, he can let himself laugh and watch and not have to think about the fact that his own children won’t be home until Sunday evening.

Jeremy, once he comes out of his shell a bit, is good at making people laugh. And that’s just the honest, gospel truth.


	5. Chapter 5

**August 4 th – Friday**

 

Before Off Topic starts, Ryan wanders into the office to poke around in a few AHWU boxes. It’s not easy to be comfortable with the expensive gifts they receive on a weekly basis, and he and the others have made it clear in past videos that they don’t have to be costly and gigantic to get featured, but on the other hand… Well, it’s rude to refuse a gift.

Jeremy likes the little (but thoughtful) presents the best. Ryan’s seen him tear up before at quite a few private letters; the excitement, however, usually stems from artwork, or sculptures, or tiny callbacks that even he can’t remember making.

“Here we go,” he says, unfolding the note that came in the box, “it says, ‘Hi Jeremy, and all of Achievement Hunter – I saw on your Twitter account that you’d been looking at weird National Holidays, and thought I would send this along for August the fourth. It’s only small, but hopefully you and everyone else still enjoy them! Love your stuff and love you—Azra Sayeed.’ Oh, look at _this_ \--”

He pulls out three titanic packets of Chips Ahoy cookies.

“Biscuits!” Gavin cheers.

Jeremy poses with them. “At the time of filming, it actually is National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day. Thanks so much, Azra!”

“Is that a real holiday?”

“No,” Jack tells Gavin, “that kinda thing has to go through congress first, and to be honest, I think they’re dealing with enough right now.”

Jeremy laughs, but not as much as he did when Ryan made the same joke yesterday. It’s more of a polite titter. His heart swells.

“Do you know the average American eats nearly nineteen _thousand_ cookies in their lifetime?” Jeremy says. Maybe he picked that up during his weird holiday research.

“Better get started then,” Ryan says gravely, and crams three into his face as best he can.

Soon, the group’s numbers start to dwindle – Jeremy and Gavin limp off to the Off Topic set, after a particularly debilitating accident involving a broken grappling hook and fifteen minutes of wincing and reassurance. When Ryan gets back to his desk to get ready for the stream, spraying crumbs and regret everywhere, there’s another post it note:

 

**WE LOVE YOU! :)**

 

“Hey, Ryan. You coming, or what?” asks Michael, from the doorway.

“Yeah, we even restocked the Diet Coke on set for you.”

“Aw, maybe we should get one of those soda dispensers and put it next to the stuff we have on tap,” Michael says to Jack, holding the door open for him and grinning at Ryan as they leave.

Yeah, they do love him.

Ryan goes on set, and eats more cookies. He’s gotta hit that nineteen thousand at some point, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit late today folks, but it's technically still the 5th ;)  
> As ever, let me know what you think with a comment - typos, good ideas, bad ideas, etc. I love to hear about any of it!

**August 5 th – Saturday**

 

Ryan wakes up at noon, which should have been the first sign that he wasn’t feeling too good, and eats two heaped bowls of cereal for breakfast. Well, technically lunch. He doesn’t particularly care about the specifics of the classification of his meal.

Loneliness, for all its anachronistic dragging, doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the constraints of time.

It’s not even that he misses Natalie. Any feelings for his ex-wife dissipated instantly the moment she walked out the door screaming at him, and yeah, his job had long hours, but it’d _always_ had long hours, and she’d never said so when that had somehow become a problem.

It wasn’t even that she’d bottled it all up and let it all loose in one go; it was that she’d upset his children.

Maybe he should have cut back his hours earlier. Actually, scrap that, he definitely should have cut back his hours earlier, because he misses his kids even when they’re home with him for the week. But Natalie had never cut her work hours, either, and Ryan had been the one to organise a sitter for the afternoons they were gone.

God.

He just feels unappreciated, and not listened to. Somehow, it’s worse when there’s no-one there to make him feel those things, as opposed to when there was someone.

He texts Jeremy.

 

**Ryan Haywood: Heard you had the weekend off. Up to anything good?**

 

It’s two in the afternoon, and Ryan’s kinda proud of himself for staving off until then. He could have caved waaaaay earlier than that.

It takes excitingly short, yet _excruciatingly_ short seconds for Jeremy to respond.

 

**Jeremy Dooley: Now you mention it, it’s Work Like A Dog Day. Catching up with my backlog. What’s up with you, pal?**

 

Oh. Ryan puts his phone down and rests his face in his hands; there goes _that_ plan. Asking Gavin or Michael to hang out would be too weird… He supposes he could see if Jack wanted to get together, maybe have a movie afternoon or something, but before he can formulate any coherent plans, Jeremy texts him again.

 

**Jeremy Dooley: Wanna do something tomorrow or next weekend? It’s Sisters Day tomorrow, I’m doing all my work so I can skype her, but if you’re free we should organise something :D**

**Ryan Haywood: Ah, I’ve got the kids tomorrow til next Sunday, sorry Jeremy**

**Ryan Haywood: Getting stuff done sounds like a good idea though. I should probably do that work thing at some point**

**Jeremy Dooley: Shut the fuck up, you work so hard.**

**Jeremy Dooley: Take a break for once, it’s also National Underwear Day**

**Ryan Haywood: Jeremy? Are you working at your computer in your underwear???**

**Jeremy Dooley: You bet your sweet ass I am Haywood ;)**

Ryan doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he tries not to think about Jeremy sitting in the promotional briefs they snagged from Off Topic ads, and methodically ticks off things from his to-do list. His streaming page needs a bit of editing and revamping, and he even responds to a couple of tweets before dinner.

As always, he cooks enough rice for two people. It’s fine for leftovers, but it’s taxing on the soul.

 

**Ryan Haywood: Enjoy/good luck, sounds like you’re making the best of it!**

He’ll give his sister a call tomorrow. They’ve been speaking more since his divorce, but he really should pay her the attention she deserves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family fluff ahead. (All OCs.) Let me know if it works or not. <3

**August 6th – Sunday**  

 

" _Hello?_ " 

"Hey, Mel, it's Ryan." 

" _Oh, hi, Ry!_ " his sister says delightedly. " _What's the occasion?_ " 

Ryan grins. "Now that you mention it, one of my friends told me it was Sisters Day, so I thought I'd give you a call. Just to say hi, and stuff." 

Melanie's voice goes flat: " _is that Jeremy?_ " 

"It was, yeah." 

" _He's been asking me about Charlie. Something about weird holiday celebrations,_ " she snorts. " _I can't tell you_ _anything else about it though, he was very clear on that._ " 

"Is Jeremy planning me a surprise?!" 

" _Don't know._ " 

"You're the worst, Mel." 

Melanie Haywood is, and has always been, the most sneaky of the Haywood siblings. She _mmm-_ _hmms_  in confirmation, sounding pretty damn smug, as Ryan crashes on his couch and tucks his cell phone into his shoulder. 

"How's Columbus?" 

" _Same old. How's Austin?_ " 

"Quiet for now," Ryan replies. "Gonna go pick up the kids later, though, so let's see how long that lasts..." 

" _Aw, you love them. Say hi from Auntie Mel for me._ " 

"'Course I will." 

" _No-one else yet, Ry? No dates?_ " 

"Please don't start that, Christ." 

" _I'm serious!_ " Mel protests, " _you can't be flopping around a big old house like that all by yourself every other week. It's not healthy._ "

"No-one wants to date me," he says firmly. "Not with two young kids and a job like mine. If I couldn't even get the mother of my children to put up with me, then there's zero probability of--" 

" _Don't say stuff like that._ " Mel is equally as firm in tone.  _"You'll find someone at some point, and maybe they'll actually be able to talk to you in a healthy way. For god's sake, Ryan, make sure you teach the kids some communication skills, 'cos fuck knows_ _she's_ _not_ _gonna_ _\--_ _"_  

"I will," he says. "I do. I'm not gonna let them be as unhappy as she is." 

 _"That's the spirit!"_  

Ryan snorts. Mel and Jeremy, and occasionally Jack, are the only people he really gossips about his failed marriage with, and it  _does_  make him feel better. For all the 'trying to be the bigger person' attitude he tries to project - and his refusing to discuss the matter  _at all_  most of the time – well, it feels quite nice to vent his frustrations a little. 

He makes the forty minute drive across the city to Natalie's house, and sits in his car taking deep breaths. He thinks about the look he's about to see on his kids' faces, and thinks about the post it notes he keeps getting, and thinks about eating watermelon around the back of Stage 5. 

 _'We love you!'_ , the note had said.

Okay. 

He's got this. 

Ryan inhales deeply, and opens the car door. 

It takes ten seconds of waiting on the porch before he's greeted – and it's not his ex-wife who greets him, either. The pitter-patter of tiny feet, and a struggle with the handle, precedes a shriek of:  _"_ _D_ _aaaaaaaddy_ _\--!!_ _"_  

"Hey, peanut!" he grins, sweeping his son up into his arms, "how was your week?" 

"It was great, but I missed you, Daddy--" 

"Oh, good, you're here," says Natalie from within the front hall, and there she is. Five foot and eight inches' worth of communication issues and an undiagnosed  _something_ , with a refusal to listen to advice and a short fuse to match. 

It's been eight months or so since they split, but hell if she can't still frustrate and worry him. 

"Hey, Nat," he murmurs, "how was your week?" 

"New clothes for Milo for school, and we went out to eat yesterday, so you might not wanna do that for a couple days." 

"I had the biggest burger in the world!" says Milo, holding his arms in front of Ryan's line of sight. 

"I bet you did, kiddo. Where's Lillian, huh?" 

"Inside. She's packing up her books to take to home." 

Ryan's heart does a funny little jump, when he hears his five-year-old call Dad's House his 'home'. "Well," he smiles, "maybe we'll go to the library this week, how about that? We can pick out some nice picture books." 

"Can we draw picture books? By us?" 

"We can do that tomorrow, if you like. We'll ask Lilly if she'll share her crayons, but we have to be super nice to her, 'cos Lil J told me it's Sister's Day. And that means we gotta be nice to our sisters." 

Milo cheers, and it almost drowns out the  _thump-thump-thump_  of a sack of books being carried down the staircase. 

"Hi, Dad! Look at all these cool books that Mom got for me! We went to a huge store and I found all the cool ones." 

Ryan sets Milo on the floor again – he's off like a shot, to collect all of his things – and crouches down so he's level with his daughter. "Didja pick 'em all out by yourself, Lillian?" 

"Sure did!" she beams. Christ, when did her teeth get so  _gappy_? She's a couple years older than her brother, yeah, but Ryan hadn't thought she'd be tooth fairy age just yet. 

"That's my girl," he smiles. "C'mon, I'll put them in the trunk for you. Time to get all strapped in, okay?" 

As Lillian and Milo scramble into their car seats, Ryan is left standing on the porch, trying to think of something to say. 

"Sister's Day?" Natalie asks, raising her eyebrow. 

"Spoke to mine this morning," Ryan replies. 

"Did Jeremy make that up?" 

He decides to be honest. "You know what?" he says to her. "I don't know. It's a sweet idea if he did, though." 

The singular eyebrow is raised to impossible heights. "Right. Well, I'll see you next week." 

"Take care of yourself, Nat--" 

The door clicks shut in his face. 

Right. 

"--please," he adds, calling it out a little louder, because although he truly hopes she will, Natalie is probably just annoyed by his well-wishing. 

The drive back is filled with squabbling and Top 100 hits, and it's such a massive relief that he could cry tears of fucking  _joy_. Mel is  _entirely_ correct in that his house is a better place to live when it's covered in toys and scrappy artwork, and god, he's almost sorry to put the two to bed once seven thirty PM rolls around. 

It's been a long day. 

Ryan crawls into bed an hour later, pulling sheets over him that the temperature wants to fight him over, and browses any site he can think of. Reddit, Twitter, Facebook – oh, Jeremy's messaged him. 

 

 **Jeremy Dooley: I did make the best of it, thanks pal.** **How are Thing 1 and Thing 2?**  

 

 **Ryan Haywood: Very excited to learn it was Sisters Day. I only have you to thank for their best behaviour honestly**  

 

 **Jeremy Dooley:**   **Haha** **! You're welcome ;)**  

**_BRICKPOP: Jeremy scored 2,806 points. Play now!_**

 

 **Ryan Haywood: What the fuck is that?**  

 

 **Jeremy Dooley: Bet you can't beat me**  

 

**_BRICKPOP: Jeremy scored 2,806 points. Play now!_**

**_BRICKPOP:_** ** _Ryan_  ** ** _scored_** ** _1_** ** _,_** ** _0_** ** _6_** ** _4_ ** **_points._ **

**_BRICKPOP: Jeremy scored_** **_3_ ** **_,_ ** **_43_ ** **_6 points._ **

**_BRICKPOP:_** ** _Ryan_** ** _scored_**   ** _4,070_ ****_points._ **

 

 **Jeremy Dooley: WHAAAT**  

 

 **Ryan Haywood: Guess I'm just better. In every conceivable way.**  

 

 **Jeremy Dooley: Oh, I will beat you. Mark my words, Haywood, you're going down.**  

 

Ryan snorts, and throws the covers away from his overheating feet. Even after ten PM, Austin in August is unbearably hot. 

 

 **Ryan Haywood: I'd like to see you try. Winning brings me nothing but**   **immeasurable** **happiness and I'll protect it with my life**  

 

 **Jeremy Dooley: I've done my job then :)**  

 

He frowns at his phone... What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Before he can formulate a suitably confused reply, Jeremy tacks a bit on the end: 

 

 **Jeremy Dooley: It's National Friendship Day today, too. Hope dumb Facebook games cheered u up a bit. See!! We can still hang out**  

 **Jeremy Dooley: Speak to you tomorrow buddy**  

 

He stares at the screen blankly for a moment, before breaking into a huge grin.  _Fuck_ , of course Jeremy would pull a stunt like this. Ryan sends him the biggest smiley face sticker he can find, and rolls over in bed, warm with giddiness. 

National Friendship Day... Goddamn. That man is  _full_ of fucking surprises.


	8. Chapter 8

**August 7** **th** **\- Monday**  

 

The AHWU episode they all filmed on Friday is released to the public today. Ryan sits and scrutinises the footage, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever leaves the post it notes on his desk. For one, however, it'd be kinda sad if he did work it out. And secondly, they're so stealthy that they never get caught on camera, no matter how many frames Ryan trawls through. 

Gavin and Jeremy want to grapple the top of the wooden frame in the office ("it's a closer target than the ceiling, I bet we could do it first try!"). This is the wooden structure with all of their  _glass_ _frames_ and  _fragile artwork_  hanging on it. Ryan rolls his eyes at the same time he does on camera. 

Except disaster strikes elsewhere, and the iZombie picture is left intact. 

"FUCK--" 

"Oh,  _shit_ , Jeremy, are you okay?!" 

"Gavin," says Jack sharply, "what the fuck did you do?!" 

"He  _grappled_  me! Fuck!" Jeremy gasps, and he's got a shallow split down the leg of his jeans. It's turning rusty red even as he speaks. 

"Bollocks, Lil J, I'm so sorry. Oh my  _god_." 

"It's okay," he replies, sounding calmer now that he's had time to get used to the pain. "I think it's a shallow one, it's just  _big_. You skinned my calf, god _damn_." 

Gavin's kneeling by him now, half-hugging him as they sprawl on the floor. "I really am sorry, Jeremy!" 

And the camera focuses in on Jeremy's face, as he tears open his ruined jeans to get a better look out-of-frame. "It's okay, Gav, really," he grins, and winces slightly, "you're in luck. Know why?" 

"Nope?" 

"Monday the seventh is National Forgiveness Day," he says, and Gavin chokes out a ' _n'awwww'_ and slaps him on the shoulder. 

Ryan considers the whole episode on his drive home, so that the nanny can go – Jeremy has such a tremendous capacity for forgiveness anyway. Does he really need a day as an excuse? The man wants to make sure that everyone's happy, with an astonishingly strong dedication to entertaining and accommodating. 

If Lillian and Milo end up bickering tonight, he knows what incentive to use to get them to shut their traps. Hell, maybe he'll ask Jeremy over this week anyway – it's been a little while since he saw the two of them, and Ryan knows that he gets on well with kids.


	9. Chapter 9

**August 8** **th** **\- Tuesday**  

 

"This is gonna be such a good one." 

"It's disgusting," says Ryan, from behind the camera. "You'd better tell everyone what you wanna do." 

"Okay," says Jeremy, looking up into the lens from his chopping board, "so the eighth of August is a real good day for weird holidays, because it's--" 

"--there's  _no_  way that anyone  _ever_  has celebrated this--" 

"--shhh, Ryan. I'm gettin' to it. It's 'Sneak Zucchini Onto Your Neighbour's Porch Day'."

The two of them are in the kitchen at work, and Jeremy is reliving his days of making fancy drinks with wedges of fruit. This time, however, it's at nine in the morning, and he's chopping a fucking zucchini so finely that it looks like the net curtains Ryan's grandma used to have. 

"Now," Jeremy says, barely looking up from his knife, "I don't have a neighbour with a porch, because I live in an apartment. Plus, it's probably a real bad idea to piss off the people I live with. So what I'm gonna do instead is Sneak Zucchini Onto My Neighbour's Desk Day, and hope  _real fuckin' hard_  that Michael doesn't cream me." 

"He won't," says Ryan, with only some degree of certainty. 

Jeremy is shockingly skilled with a kitchen knife; by the time they're finished, and under the pressure of a deadline, no less, Jeremy's carved up two zucchinis so thinly that they can fit them all into a single bowl. 

"This is gonna be so good." 

"They're really slimy, Jeremy, this is horrible. His computer's gonna smell of zucchini for weeks." 

"Can you imagine?" Jeremy laughs, pushing open the door to the empty office, "can you imagine if they missed a bit during clean up and it started growing stuff? Gavin would definitely throw up." 

"Oh, for sure," agrees Ryan, and takes the bowl whilst Jeremy reorders the desk. They don't want to ruin any of his things, after all. 

The two clean up most of the desk accessories, packing them into a box for later; there's still a  _fuck_ load of zucchini slices left after they cover the desk, so Jeremy finds an old keyboard, and they later that and the monitor with the remainder. 

"God, it's like  _wallpaper_. It's so thin you can still kinda see the monitor display!" Ryan zooms in on the detail: "good  _job_ , Lil J." 

"Aw, thanks. Now we just gotta see if he appreciates my gift." 

They sit in the office for an excruciating fifteen minutes, and luckily for them, Michael and Gavin are the first to walk in. 

Michael stops, catches sight of his workspace, and clears his face of any emotion except disappointment. 

"Eurgh," says Gavin, "what is  _that_?!" 

"The fuck have you done to my desk," says Michael. It's not a question. 

Ryan fails to repress a particularly violent huff of laughter. 

"Jeremy," Michael says slowly, "what day is it today?" 

"August eigh--" 

 _"What fuckin' day is it today Lil J--_ _"_  

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jeremy wheezes. 

"I  _know_ it was you! You've been doing food shit and weird holidays since the month fuckin' started! What is it,  _Leave Slimy Shit_ _On_ _Michael's Desk Day_?!" 

"No," Jeremy squeaks, holding his chest, "it's Leave Zucchini On Your Neighbour's Porch Day, but you're the closest I have to a neighbour's porch--" 

"Are you telling me that's a courgette?" Gavin demands. "I've  _never_  seen a zucchini like that. That's bloody disgusting." 

Lindsay pops up behind him, just at Michael's admonishing Lil J (" _you Boston_ _pieca_ _shit, I fuckin'_ _hate you_ "), and looks blankly at the desk. 

"Is that zucchini?" 

"Oh no, Lindsay,  _don't_ ," Ryan tries to say, darting over with the camera he's been stealthily filming with, but it's too late. Lindsay peels a slice from the corner of Michael's monitor and pops it into her mouth. 

"That's fucking disgusting, Linds," says Jeremy. He's still wiping tears from his eyes. 

Michael joins her, revealing a tiny portion of desk space. Gavin has to leave the room. 

"The zucchini is a hit, then? You two are so gross." 

"You know what?" Michael says, chewing thoughtfully. "I can appreciate the aesthetic. The tiling and the craftsmanship is just  _beautiful_." 

"Oh, thanks!" 

"But if either of you ever do it again, I  _will_  kill you." 

"What?!" says Ryan indignantly. "Why're you gonna kill me? What did I do?!" 

"You're in cahoots," Lindsay supplies. 

"I... Okay, yeah, that's true." 

Ryan manages to catch Jeremy's smile on camera – a baring of teeth in the revelation that they're 'in cahoots' - and hopes beyond his own comprehension that whoever edits this one leaves that shot in. It's not something he understands, yet, but it is something he desperately  _wants_.

And that's not as much of a problem as he thought it might turn out to be. 


	10. Chapter 10

**August 9** **th** **\- Wednesday**  

 

"Hey, Geoff, I got you something," Jeremy says, and Ryan's head snaps up from his work. It was already pretty late in the afternoon – this  _had_  to be the holiday celebration of the day. He'd been looking forward to it for  _hours_. 

"What?" says Geoff. He sounds as confused as everyone else looks. 

Jeremy tosses a plainly-wrapped, oblong parcel his way, and Geoff catches it in both palms. 

"Got  _me_ something?" 

"Yeah," he says, friendly as can be, "you were the best fit for today's holiday." 

"Why? It's not my birthday, right? What is it?" 

Geoff tears off the paper excitedly, his eyes shining: "oh," says Jeremy flippantly, "it's Book Lover's Day. I figured you were one of two people in the office who would appreciate it." 

"Who's the other?" asks Ryan. 

"Steffie. I actually got her one I knew for sure was good, so she wouldn't be disappointed with a shitty romance novel again." 

"Jeremy," Geoff says slowly, holding up a pre-motion picture copy of  _The Martian_. "I've wanted to read this for ages." 

"I know. I remember you saying." 

"The movie was so good, too." 

"Remember you saying that, as well." 

"Jeremy, you know I love you? Because I do. You're a good guy and I love you," Geoff says seriously, and crosses the room to hug the man from behind. 

Jeremy pauses in his editing to hold Geoff's arms in reciprocation. "Aw, I love you too, buddy. Happy Book Lover's Day!  _The Martian_  is way more political as a book than a film, by the way, it's pretty interesting." 

"No spoilers," Geoff says into his hair. "Love you, buddy."

Later, Ryan sidles up somewhat awkwardly to his friend, and leans down to mutter to him in a low voice. 

"That was real sweet, what you did today." 

"Aw," says Jeremy, who suddenly becomes very interested in the carpet, "nah, I just--" 

"Just put some thought into it. It was nice," Ryan says, completely honestly. He takes advantage of the pause between them to take the plunge. "Hey... You, uh, wanna come to the library tonight?" 

He's met with a blank look. It's not dismissive – just a little questioning. 

Ryan shrugs. "I told the kids I'd take them. Lillian's been really into her reading lately, and, um, I thought they might listen to you if you told them about the holiday today. I'm trying to get Milo into more books, and... Yeah. Like, obviously you don't have to come if you don't want to, I know there's  _kids_  and, well, I just thought maybe? We could hang out like that, except--" 

"Ryan," says Jeremy, grinning at him, "stop freaking out, man. I'd love to come, I love kids and I love—I love libraries. I've actually got an art book on order that I need to take out, so that works out perfectly." 

"...Really?" 

"Yeah," he says, "I'd really like to come. Hey, maybe I can even keep an eye on them whilst  _you_  pick out something. When was the last time you read a book, man?" 

Ryan smiles, and feels his face begin to heat up. "Oh, no, you don't have to do that," he protests, and they drop the subject to agree to meet there at six, so that the kids can eat beforehand. 

It doesn't matter how many times Ryan pulls up in front of a library – it still seems like a towering, authoritative building, and it's  _his_. Natalie wasn't too big on reading, even when they first started dating, but Ryan's always been fascinated with game guides and Shakespeare and beautiful 19th Century poetry. 

It's kind of his thing with his children. God knows their mother isn't gonna take them. 

Jeremy is waiting outside, already having parked up, so that when the little ones see him they aren't too loud amongst the shelves. He's come straight from the office, all aviators and non-grappled, brand-new jeans, and he even looks like he's changed his shirt for a more child-friendly one. 

" _Lil_ _ly_ _J_!" 

"Hey," Jeremy beams, taking his sunglasses off and balancing them on his head, "it's Lilly N! How're you doin', kid?" 

Lillian smiles a smile that's mostly gums. "We've come to find books, so that Dad can read to us!" 

"Woah, kid. Lost a couple teeth, there, huh?" 

"Mm-hmm," she nods. 

Milo is clinging to Ryan's jeans. 

"C'mon, peanut, you remember Jeremy?" Ryan asks him. "Lil J's all about books today. We're gonna look round the library with him." 

Jeremy crouches down to meet his eye. "Hey, Milo, long time, no see! Wanna see if we can find some rhyming books? They were my fave when I was small." 

"You're  _still_ small." 

"Shut your face, Haywood," Jeremy grins. As he looks up to try and be annoyed at the insult, the early evening sunlight catches in his eyelashes. 

"Hi," Milo mumbles. He chooses that particular moment to be vocal, from somewhere around Ryan's back pocket, and therefore saves his father from any immediate feelings he's still not sure how to address. 

Ryan ushers them in. He doesn't have to tell them to be quiet, because they already know about that rule. 

"I'll be two seconds," Jeremy says, as they walk into the lobby, "I just gotta grab my art book and then I'll be right back. See ya in a bit!" 

So they wander into the children's section. The three of them have agreed that they like it here better in the evenings – throughout the morning and afternoon, particularly on weekdays during summer vacation, there tend to be a lot of noisy children and their noisy parents. Milo doesn't like the volume, and Lillian doesn't like the interruption to her reading, so coming after peak hours seems like the best plan. 

"Are we still into animal books?" 

"No," whispers Lillian, "I want books with nice pictures now. I can't see the animals in my head. I wanna see bright things when I read them." 

"We can do bright things," Ryan says gently. "I bet we can find a mythology book you can read. They have pictures of all  _sorts_  of animals." 

"Daddy? Can I have a rhyme book? Like Jeremy said?" 

He looks down at Milo: "of course you can. We'll dig around in the boxes and see what they got. Sound good?" 

"Yup. I like rhyme books. They have them at school." 

"And what grade are you going into, Milo?" Jeremy says, popping up behind them with an enormous tome in his arms. 

Ryan has to talk aside to him when Milo clams up again. "He's not, he's going into kindergarten." 

"Oooo, kindergarten's fun," Jeremy grins. 

Milo doesn't say anything. He hides himself by rooting through the boxes of books Ryan suggested earlier. 

"Hey," Jeremy says, "if you wanna go look for something, I'll keep an eye on them for a sec. I was serious when I was asking about the last time you read something." 

Ryan glances at him in surprise. "Are you sure? I usually give them ten minutes to look for something anyway, so they won't be any trouble--" 

"For fuck's sake, Ry, go find a book," Jeremy huffs, swearing  _very_  quietly. 

Ryan does. 

He wanders upstairs, looking for anything to occupy himself with – it's been a while since he read some Shakespeare, so he grabs  _The Tempest_. Not his favourite, but a beautiful piece nonetheless, and always a better read in physical form. He thumbs through the crime, where none of it captures his interest; over in the non-fiction section, however, his gaze is drawn to a displayed copy of a book about essential recipes. There's a really appetising patty on the front cover, and hell, it might keep him occupied when the kids go back to their mom's house next week, so he grabs that too. 

When he returns to the floor below, peering into the children's section, the sight he's greeted with shocks him deep into his skin. 

"When tweetle-beetles fight, it's called a tweetle-beetle  _battle_ ," Jeremy reads, "and when they battle in a puddle, it's a tweetle-beetle  _puddle_ battle." 

He's cross-legged on the floor of the young readers' library, with one of Ryan's kids on each knee, and has a Dr. Seuss book opened in front of them. Milo's listening with rapt curiosity; Lillian's gazing at the pictures, painted in glorious sixties primary colours, like she's never seen any art so pretty. 

His teeth are tingling. (He doesn't understand why.) 

"Can you swim?" Jeremy asks them, lowering his voice to ask a question not included in the Seuss text. 

"I can!" pipes up his daughter. 

"No," says Milo simultaneously, looking downtrodden. 

Ryan decides it's time for him to resurface. "That's a lie," he says, peeling around the corner with his books in his arms, "he's just not very confident." 

"Oh, hey, Ry. We found  _Fox in Socks._ " 

"I can see," he smiles. 

"Can we take it home, Dad? Please?" 

"Uh... It's a library, Lils. If you take it to the lady behind the desk, she'll let you borrow pretty much anything for home." 

"I've got all my stories, Dad," says Milo. He points to a pile of rhyming books – Ryan spots  _The Gruffalo_ ,  _Dirty Beasts,_ and what looks like it could be  _Green Eggs and Ham_. 

"I hate you," he mumbles in Jeremy's ear, as they're lining up to put their books on their accounts. "I'm not gonna be able to read  _any_  of these to my kids, you asshole, they'll have to read them to  _me_." 

"It's good practice for all of you, what can I say?" Jeremy snickers. 

He's holding a book on figure drawing. Looks like he wants to work on his proportions. 

"Do you want me to bring anything in later this week?" Ryan asks suddenly. "I feel bad, you getting all this stuff for everyone. If you'll let me help, I wanna." 

Jeremy thinks about it for a while, tilts his head to the side, and says, finally, "graham crackers." 

"Graham crackers? I've got some at home, but--" 

"Bring 'em in tomorrow, if you like," Jeremy says, "I've got a plan for everyone. I think it's gonna be good." 

Ryan smiles to himself all the way home, and only stops the corners of his eyes from crinkling together when he fucks up a word in that Roald Dahl book. 

Getting his kids to pick out  _tongue twisters._  Jeremy was such a  _dick_.


	11. Chapter 11

**August 10** **th** **\- Thursday**  

 

"So what are we watching today?" 

"No idea," Ryan says. "Geoff's gonna be here at some point to introduce it, and Jeremy ran off with the food I brought in this morning, so we're just as clueless as each other, here." 

"Oh," says Jack. 

And then, 

"-- _w_ _hat_ food did you bring in, exactly?" 

"Graham crackers. Jeremy asked me to." 

Jack leans back on the couch, satisfied. "Yeah, I know what he's making." 

"Oh god. I don't wanna know until he comes in." Ryan looks worried at the camera: "is that rolling? I feel like if he makes a huge fucking mess then we should get some footage of it." 

"I'm sure it'll be a disaster." 

And Jeremy bursts through the door, holding a miniature camping fire in one hand and a crapload of packets in the other. "I tested it, it's not a disaster!" he crows. 

"You sure?" 

"Well, Geoff ate the test ones, and he's not dead yet. I think it's a win." 

Geoff follows Jeremy into the room, chewing with a significantly elated expression. "Hey, guys? Jeremy's making S'mores for Theater Mode today." 

"Is it  _S'mores_ _Day?_ " asks Jack. 

"It's National S'mores Day  _and_  Lazy Day," Jeremy says, setting up the stove, "so I figured, hey, I'm gonna make you all S'mores. Then you can be lazy, and we all get snacks to see us through a shitty movie." 

"I expected the S'mores," Jack says, stealing a marshmallow, "but I didn't expect this to be your holiday-whatever for today. This is  _awesome_ , Lil J, thanks so much." 

Jeremy rips open a candy bar. "Ryan helped." 

"Thanks, Jeremy. Thanks, Ryan." Geoff leans over to set up the movie - "now everyone sit your asses down. We've got a really important thinkpiece to get through." 

Ryan spends the next two hours trying to find faults in the screening, rather than glance at the back of Jeremy's head. 

(He almost succeeds, for the most part.)


	12. Chapter 12

**August 11** **th** **\- Friday**  

 

"What's today, Lil J?" 

"Nothing for you, Gavin. Or Jack, or me, actually." 

"Oh,  _what_?" Gavin says indignantly. "What's wrong with me and Jack?" 

"Well," says Jeremy, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a grocery bag, "it's not really for anyone else in here, either,  _technically--_ " 

Michael glances up. "August eleventh... What's the holiday, man?" 

Ryan is hovering in the doorway – he was absent for AHWU today, but he's pretty psyched up for Off Topic. Everyone had been expecting Jeremy to reveal today's holiday during AHWU filming, but he's apparently held out until now. (Ryan's kind of glad that he didn't miss the announcement.) 

"Well, it's Presidential Joke Day, for a start, but we make enough of those on a daily basis that we didn't really need an occasion," Jeremy says. He's pulling wrapped parcels out of the grocery bag and stacking them on his desk to see the names he's labelled them with. "The other one I saw was Son And Daughter Day. I guess the joke here is that Trump can't name more than one of his kids, but I can name all  _yours_ , so I brought in stuff for 'em all..." 

"Ah," says Jack knowingly, leaning over the monitors to address Gavin. "See? No Kids Club." 

"So that's one for Flo Ramsey," Jeremy says, tossing Geoff a cube-shaped box, "and one for the Littlest Jones..." 

"Lil J, this is awesome," Michael says, catching the gift. "I'll see what she thinks when we get home, you're gonna get pics of Thea eating the giftwrap." 

"What did you get them?" 

"They're not  _your_  gifts, Gavin," Jeremy laughs. "I promise I'll pay attention to you on one of the other days, okay?" 

"Love you, Lil J," grins Gavin, tilting his head, and slouching on his office chair in a way it wasn't designed to be slouched in. 

"Oh, and Ryan?" 

"Yeah?" says Ryan. He trudges through the mess of AHWU cardboard and packing material, trying to reach his desk, and Jeremy throws the grocery bag into the mix. When he speaks, Ryan can hear the corners of his mouth turning up. 

"Put yours on your desk earlier. For Lillian and Milo. Tell 'em I say hi." 

He takes a seat in his chair and pulls open the scotch tape – he doesn't wanna unwrap them, but he is feeling inquisitive. 

Under the scotch tape and the brown paper are a bar of Hersheys and some Cookie Dough bites. They're Lillian's favourite candies. He can only reveal a small corner of Milo's parcel, but he sees the neon orange of a Reese's wrapper. 

So he collars Jeremy before Off Topic starts. 

"How the fuck did you remember those?" he asks, genuinely touched. "Jeremy, they're gonna  _love_ that. Thanks so much." 

"Any time, pal," Jeremy says, shrugging, "I'm feeling sorry for them, they've gotta go back to school soon. Might as well cover up with sadness with sugar, right?" 

That hits a little hard for Ryan to laugh at properly. He does his best to ignore the uneasiness that the surprisingly accurate remark leaves him with, and instead asks him, "why are you doing this...? I mean, I'm not trying to be rude, we're all really happy and  _real_  grateful, but--" 

"Just for fun," Jeremy interrupts. He's gentle. Sincere, even. "It's nice to see people happy." 

And, fuck, Ryan doesn't know how to begin to respond to that. 

There's another post it note when they get back after filming the podcast.

 

 **YOU'RE DOING GREAT :)**  

 

It's not the first time he's doubted the contents of the motivational messages – hell, it's not even the first time he's used them as a form of comfort straight after receiving them. But it's the first time he's wanted to actively make it come true, if it isn't already. 'WE LOVE YOU' isn't a message he can force, but he can do even better if he really tries to. Watching his kids unwrap the candy presents after they finish dinner that evening, and eating carefully chocolate on the couch even though they're not really allowed to? That makes him feel like he's doing great in terms of friends. 

Letting his kids take selfies and send 'thank you's to Jeremy over messaging? That makes him feel like he's doing great as a dad. 

And messaging Jeremy afterwards? 

 

 **Jeremy Dooley:** **Wanna** **come over tomorrow? If you bring swim clothes then there's a really unsurprising surprise I've got for you all.**  

 

 **Ryan Haywood: I'll pretend to be oblivious.**  

 

 **Jeremy Dooley: It's not an obstacle course, but it's still fun. I promise :)**  

 

Messaging Jeremy makes him realise that he doesn't know what he's doing  _right_ with him. But it is something great. And it makes him feel really, really lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to get this one out early today. Big chapter coming up tomorrow.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Warning for domestic manipulation and pregnancy-related trauma.)

**August 12** **th** **\- Saturday**  

 

"Is that lunch, Dad? Are we going on a picnic?"

"Well, yes and no," says Ryan, packing his food into a coolbox, "we're going to see Jeremy, because he's got a surprise for you. So we're gonna bring some lunch along, to say 'thank you'."

"Like with the candy?" Milo asks.

"Yeah, buddy. Just like with the candy."

God, he can't keep the stupid smile off of his face. Ryan's already packed his kids' swimming gear – Jeremy already told him they were okay to change in his apartment, to keep the surprise under wraps for as long as possible – and he's just making sure the food is going to survive the drive over. It's only a short journey, but so far, it's been a pleasantly sunny morning. 

The kids sing along to the radio on the way over. Ryan doesn't recognise the tune, but he feels like he knows the rhythm already. 

"What floor does Jeremy live on, Dad?"

"It's number six, Lilly," he says, as Jeremy buzzes them through. "You wanna press the button in the elevator?"

"Yeah, please!"

They ride up to the sixth floor; Lillian and Milo are too preoccupied discussing what the surprise could be to notice what Ryan notices, which is that someone's stuck glow-in-the-dark stars to the ceiling of the elevator. He wonders if they'll get some on AHWU that they can add to the sky with. 

They wander down the corridor - " _shhh_ , remember, we don't want to disturb the neighbours!" - and knock on Jeremy's door. 

Jeremy yanks it open and shoots them a  _blinding_  smile. "Hey, hey,  _Haywoods_ , it's a great day and we're all gonna go outside!" he laughs, mussing up Lillian's hair when she yells excitedly at him and crowds the doorway. "Who's up for swimming?"

"Me!" shouts Milo. 

So much for not disturbing the neighbours. 

"Aw, wait a minute, though," Jeremy pouts, and he crouches down, putting an arm around each of the kids. "We gotta ask the Alpha Haywood first if it's okay. Right?"

"Right!" says Lillian, with a frightening amount of determination. It's quickly replaced with the most powerful puppy-eyes Ryan's ever seen on her. She hadn't got  _those_  from her mom's side of the family. 

"Oh no you don't," Ryan warns him. "Don't turn me into the bad cop, here, Dooley, I already said yes--"

The kids shriek victoriously anyway. 

Jeremy directs them to the bathroom so they can get changed into their swimming gear; Ryan props the coolbox up in the hallway.

"The hell was that all about? You don't have to warm up the crowd, they already love you," he chuckles. 

Jeremy seems like he's in a radiant mood on this particular day. "Oh, y'know, just wanted to make sure my best buddy's kids have  _the best day ever_  so he can stick it to his sour ex. How better to celebrate Middle Child's Day?"

Ryan feels his stomach take the elevator back to the parking lot. 

"Don't be mad at me, but I had to chat to your brother and sister to make sure I was right," Jeremy's saying, "but they were fine with telling me  _all_ your embarrassing baby stories—Oh, I kid, I  _kid_. Ryan? Are... Is that okay?"

"It's fine," Ryan says weakly. "Yeah, it's gonna be a good day for them, thanks so much for putting this together for us--"

"Jesus, Ryan, sit down, you've gone fuckin'  _white_. If I said something wrong, I'm real sorry, buddy."

Jeremy tugs his shirt sleeve until they reach the couch; Ryan barely registers he's falling until he hits the cushions. 

"I," he starts, and stops, and adds, "it's nothing you did. I'm just being stupid, I'm sorry."

Jeremy's right beside him. "Hey, no, you're  _not_ ," he says. "You don't have to tell me, but if you let me know what to stop mentioning, then I will. I swear."

"...Milo would've been a middle child."

He says it without thinking, and it's as though his centre of gravity instantly stabilises. 

"You," Jeremy begins. He's thinking about treading carefully. 

(Which is dumb, of course, because Ryan can't remember the last time he trusted someone this vehemently.) 

"...Would've?"

"Natalie changed her mind."

"You mean, like, she didn't wanna have any more kids?"

"Sort of? We... we had a pregnancy," Ryan says, and feels a stab of guilt at his choice of pronoun. "She was pregnant. And she... terminated it. We didn't really talk about it afterwards, she didn't want to-- I just wish she'd said something before, if two kids had been enough, you know?"

There's a sharp intake of breath. "Fuck  _off_. That's terrible, god, Ry, I'm so sorry."

"...It's okay."

Jeremy looks him in the eye. It's not doubtful, or questioning – he simply seems to be waiting for an elaboration. 

And Ryan trusts him. 

"Actually," says Ryan, "you know what? It's  _not_  okay. She's not well, but that doesn't mean she gets to guilt me into shutting up about something that affected me, too. She's made it so I can't talk to anyone about  _anything_. Not even the person who was supposed to be able to listen to me the most, and had a fucking ring to prove it. So fuck  _that_." 

They both lean into the touch when Jeremy places a hand just above Ryan's elbow. 

Ryan exhales. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I've never said that out loud before."

"You don't have to apologise," says Jeremy quietly. 

"...Yeah. You're right."

"Have you spoken to anyone about this?"

The idea of therapy was laughable – he hadn't put enough time into his marriage, and now he needed to save his precious hours for his kids. "I couldn't get  _the woman this happened to_  to make an appointment. What makes you think I went to see anyone?"

"It happened to you, too, Ry," Jeremy points out. "You're allowed to talk about how you were hurt by people you love, it doesn't mean you love them any less."

"I don't love her," Ryan says decisively, and, well, it all falls into place. He deserves someone who helps him unbottle all the bad shit he's picked up along the way. Someone who pays him more than minimal attention, and doesn't find fault in everything he does, but can still let him know when he's being an ass. Someone who Ryan can give and give and give to, but someone who gives as much  _back_ to him. 

And, oh,  _fuck_ , that someone could be Jeremy Dooley. 

"I don't love Natalie," he repeats, like the very thought could become a tangible object, if he says it in the right way. 

"I can't say I'm surprised," says Jeremy. He scooches closer to him on the couch and pulls him into a hug. 

He blinks away the prickling in the corners of his eyes. "Sorry for depressing you," he murmurs into Jeremy's t-shirt. 

"Not at all. It's important." Jeremy draws back, and glances up in response to the sound of approaching children - "and Ryan? You couldn't tell me anything that'd make me think less of you. I know you. Okay?"

"Okay," Ryan says automatically, and kind of wants to grab Jeremy by the shoulders and do  _something_ , anything, as the man gets up to go. 

"You ready to splash lots and have some fun?" Jeremy asks Lillian and Milo, but says whilst smiling at Ryan. 

_"Yeah!"_

"Oh, Milo, honey, your shirt's tucked into your swim shorts. C'mere." 

He fixes his children's swim fashion mistakes, and thinks,  _fuck._  

 _Fucking fuck, I'm_ _fucked_. 

The elevator is too small with all four of them in, even though it's built for eight people at a time. Ryan can't breathe when he sees how Lillian and Milo are vibrating with sheer excitement, and looking at Jeremy and him like they just gave them the moon, and god, Jeremy's so happy to be making  _them_  happy. 

The pool's deserted. 

"It's a good weekend for it," Jeremy says, stripping off his shirt, "most of my apartment are at that street festival this weekend, so we should basically have the pool to ourselves."

Ryan glances at his kids. They're looking at him expectantly. 

"Alright," he concedes dramatically, and pulls of his t-shirt too. "You can go in, go on..."

"Thanks, Dad!" Milo trills, and splashes noisily down the steps. Lillian fixes her water wings, and follows no less gently. 

"Don't run by the edge!" Ryan calls after them. 

Jeremy drops the towels with a  _flumpf_. "Hey, Ry. You gonna dip a toe in?"

"Of course," Ryan says, scandalised, "you think I'm not man enough to give my little ones mermaid rides? You insult me."

Jeremy cackles. He sits on the edge and slips in, causing as much of a splash as the five and seven-year-old children did. 

Ryan uses the stairs. 

"You're such a responsible dad. Ugh."

"Shut up," he retorts, and loses his breath when the temperature of the water reaches his chest.  _"_ Man _,_ that's... that's cold."

Lillian paddles up to where the two stand in the shallow end, flicking water into Ryan's hair: "Dad! Come watch me and Milo floating in the deep end!"

"Sorry, peanut," he says gravely, "Jeremy can't go into the deep end. He's on tippy toes as it is  _right now,_ trying to keep his head above the water."

There's a beat, where Lillian stifles a giggle, and Jeremy catches her eye. 

Ryan barely has time to think  _oh, no_ before he's pushed under the surface. 

"How  _could_ you?!" he splutters, re-emerging from the surprise, "how could you dunk your own father? I've been betrayed--"

Lillian has to hold onto Jeremy so that she doesn't sink, she's laughing so hard. Milo apparently swam back over whilst his vision was impaired, with, y'know,  _the pool_ \-- 

"You forget I'm the holder of the coolbox," he warns, trying to be serious. "I decide which of my subjects get burgers and which don't. You're on thin ice, Lil Traitors."

"You brought burgers?" Jeremy wheezes. 

"Yeah, Dad made them from his library book!" Milo pipes up. "I wasn't supposed to see them but I needed a glass of water last night. It's not a secret anymore, right?"

"Nope. It's a reward for good kids  _who don't try to drown me_."

"I can't believe you brought burgers."

Jeremy, staring at him, with the sunshine bouncing off his wet hair, makes him feel great about staying up late with his hands full of minced beef. 

"Of course I did, I'm awesome," he says. " _You_ just took advantage of my trusting nature and tried to lure me to my death! Conspiracy to commit patricide. You're a bad influence on my kids, Dooley."

"You said Jeremy said we had to forgive each other," Milo pipes up again, and Jeremy wheezes twice over. 

Middle Child's Day turns out to be a success. When Ryan's showering the last of the chlorine off of his skin, recalling the 'best day ever' chants he's heard in the car, he wonders if Jeremy would mind if he printed the picture of the four of them out for his desk at work. It's a ketchup smeared selfie, of course, but no less sentimental. 

Forgiveness is important, yeah. But sometimes 'fuck you' is an equally important attitude to convey. He'll have to thank his siblings for their part in Jeremy's 'Middle Child's Day' gift, because he can't  _wait_  for Lillian and Milo to tell their mom  _all about this_  tomorrow. 

 

For the first time in months, he feels truly, definitely  _fine_ _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick notification that the tags and warnings have been updated!! This slow burn is gonna go up in _smoke_ at some point and I'm not sorry in the slightest.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late - I spent probably more than twelve hours in airports yesterday. Today's chapter will be up later on.

**August 13th**   **\- Sunday**  

 

Before Ryan prepares to drop off his kids at Natalie's place, he sees a little doodle on Twitter. 

 

 **@** **JeremyNDooley** **: Happy #** **LeftHandersDay** **to @** **jack_p** **and @** **geofflramsey** **. To celebrate, I drew you with my left hand. (Kill it with fire)**  

 

It's just a damn mess of black lines and squiggles. 

Ryan retweets it. 

As per usual, he drives ridiculously carefully to his ex-wife's house, because it makes the journey that little bit longer. He's got lovely kids who don't argue in the car – and even if they did, he wouldn't want to miss their bickering. Not on a Sunday afternoon. The limited minutes are too precious to him. 

They pull up. Lillian launches herself out of the back seat in record time. 

"Mommy, Mommy!" he can hear her yelling, "we went swimming at Jeremy's house and Dad  _made_ cheeseburgers for us! And he's taking my books back to the library for me, 'cos I finished them all! It was--!" 

Ryan only notices that something's wrong from the sudden silence. 

He pulls Milo out of his car seat, setting him down on the ground so he has enough hands free for their clothes bags, but when he turns towards the front door again? Well, there's Natalie's figure in the doorway, and another one silhouetted in the kitchen window, and he wants to drop everything and run. 

(He doesn't run. He closes the car door with his ass, and lets the fury override his anxieties.) 

"Hello, Natalie," he says icily, stepping up onto the porch. Milo is up the stairs in an instant. 

"Daddy," Lillian murmurs, "I think Mom's friend Jesse is here." 

"I think he might be, too, peanut," he says gently. "Can you manage your bag? I think you should probably go and unpack." 

Lillian says a very quiet  _okay_ and squeezes herself into the house. She's a smart kid. 

"We talked about this, Nat," he hisses, "we weren't gonna introduce any 'friends' so soon after, we were gonna wait it out and do it slowly if we ever met other people--" 

"Are you jealous now?" she says. It's too loud. "Come  _on_ , Ryan, you of all people can't be so possessive over me when--" 

"--This  _isn't_   _about you_ ," he interrupts. God, the anger is bubbling through him. Ryan's never said that particular phrase to her before, but it feels great to say to her face. "This is about  _my kids_ , and what you're doing to them. You can't instantly replace me with a total stranger, it's  _going to fuck them up_." 

"Isn't that what  _you're_ doing?" 

He can't fucking believe his ears. 

" _What_?!" 

"With Jeremy," she says smugly, "swimming at his house? Those weird holidays with lessons that you keep on teaching the kids with? You've always hung around him loads, Ryan. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one that made you file against me." 

"You  _know_  that's not true," Ryan says. "Do you hear yourself?  _You_ filed against  _me_.  _You_ walked out. This has nothing to do with Jeremy and you know it." 

God, this Jesse guy must have been hanging around in the house for a while, if his kids are already familiar with him. It stings in a way he's often felt before, when his ex-wife neglects to tell him about important things. 

Milo reappears behind his mother's leg. 

"Dad?" he asks. "Are we staying with you for school next week?" 

"Yeah, you are, buddy. I'm gonna drop you in before work," says Ryan, and holy shit, talking to children is just one of those things that can instantly calm him down. "Nat, you need to take them shopping for new clothes, if you can. They'll want to look nice on their first day." 

"Can't you do it?" 

"We already did, Mommy," Milo says. "We've got clothes for school at Dad's house. We just haven't got them for your house." 

Natalie flushes, and like magic, her friend Jesse appears at her elbow – he's a skinny man of about five foot nine, and he gives off the impression that he's never held a baby in his life. When you've been around little kids for so long, it's easy to pick up on that kind of thing. 

"You must be Jesse," Ryan says, nodding in acknowledgement at him. "Bye, kids, I'll see you next week. Nat,  _please_  remember what we talked about in all those meetings with the lawyers. And man--" he points at the new boyfriend--  _"be careful with my kids_. I mean it." 

Ryan shakes for the entire drive home. On the interstate, he pulls into a rest stop to get it out of his system – with the adrenaline fading from his bloodstream, he screams into his knees and cries. He doesn't know why, when he doesn't feel a pull towards her anymore, it hurts  _so much_  that she'd already found someone new. And, apparently, she'd found him long ago. 

Had it been during their marriage? Had it been straight afterwards? Was he that replaceable? 

When he pulls up outside his own, now-empty house, his eyes are aching and bloodshot, and he's given up on the questions he doesn't have an answer to.


	15. Chapter 15

**August 14th** **\- Monday**  

 

"Ryan?" asks Lindsay, crouching next to his desk. "Everything alright?" 

He shrugs. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" 

"Because," she points out, "Jeremy brought in, like, sixty creamsicles for the whole office, and you've eaten  _four_ in under two hours." 

They both glance up to where Jeremy's perched by their new freezer, chatting to Matt and handing over the ice cream. "Yeah," he's saying, "a lot of these turned out to be about food. Obviously there isn't an  _official_  National Creamsicle Day, that kind of thing has to go through congress first--" 

"Can we go somewhere else?" he mumbles. 

"Sure thing," she says, and they're soon out the back of Stage 5 in the August heat again. Ryan feels the corners of his lips turn up when he spots watermelon seeds baked into the concrete. 

Lindsay immediately turns on him. "What's going on, Ryan? I know everyone keeps ignoring it so that they don't upset you, but you look pretty upset  _already_  to me. Did something happen over the weekend?" 

Ryan shifts uneasily. The sun is hot against the skin of his arms. 

"You've barely said a word this morning. You just kept looking in your desk at that secret stash of sticky notelets everyone knows about." 

"I don't," he starts. His brain feels too full. "...I don't want to make her out to be the bad guy. I wasn't that great either--" 

"Bullshit," Lindsay says, with a significant force behind the sentiment, and opens her arms. 

Ryan practically curls himself around her. 

"I don't know what happened to you, Ry," she says – he can feel the humming of her voice against the left side of his face - "but I hate to break it to you –  _you're awesome_. I doubt you did anything that couldn't be fixed." 

He doesn't know what to say to that, so he draws back and grits his teeth to stave off the sadness. 

"Is there anything I can do to cheer you up? We can go through some of my AHWU mail, if you like, I know you go all goo-goo over the tiny clothes." 

"They  _are_  cute," he mumbles, and Lindsay laughs, all chimes and a big, bright smile. "But... There's something else." 

"Oh yeah?" 

Ryan pauses. 

"I need a picture frame and the photo printer to do it--" 

"Done," Lindsay tells him instantly. It's times like this when he remembers she was the boss for good reason. She gets shit done with zero hesitation; indecisiveness is not a common occurrence in Lindsay's day-to-day life. 

They print out the picture from that weekend. Two children and two adults, making up a Heinz-streaked group of four, with chlorine spiked hair and sunscreened skin. If Lindsay feels the urge to make a comment, she keeps it to herself. 

And by the end of the day, Ryan's got a new photo on his desk.


	16. Chapter 16

**August 15** **th** **\- Tuesday**  

 

When Ryan needs to take a break from editing, or planning, or whatever it is he's doing that day, he sometimes goes back to older YouTube videos they've released and downvotes all the bad remarks about Jeremy and Lindsay. Obviously, the negative remarks about Jeremy are only in the last few years, but it still gives him a refreshing kind of satisfaction to know that the shit in their lives is a little less highly rated now. 

Except he loses track of time, and accidentally ignores the commotion happening on the other side of the room. He's scrolling through a page from February of last year, when a hand slides over his own on the mouse. 

"Hey," says Jeremy quietly, "didn't you hear any of that?" 

Ryan nopes out of the webpage with a discreet Ctrl+W. "Uh-uh. Sorry. I was dreaming." 

"It's Relaxation Day," his co-worker grins (and withdraws his hand, goddamnit, did he have to leave so  _soon_?). "I've put a ban on all comments sections for the day. Even on the Rooster Teeth website. Well, it's not really a  _ban_ , but it's a  _suggestion_ , because they tend to bring us down a little bit." 

"Oh yeah? Anything else?" 

Jeremy waves at the board randomly. "No new ideas. No planning ahead, today, because we came up with a schedule last week. Brainstorming stresses us out, so we're not playing anything by ear until tomorrow." 

"An easy day for us, then?" 

"You got it." 

Ryan looks thoughtfully at the ceiling. The tiles are shot to shit. "What about if I'm staying late today? Do I have to obey the rules then?" 

"Well, I'm staying late too," he replies, "and I need to finish up some videos, so I'll need to look at the previously published ones. We can break the rules together."  

Man. If only. 

He'd almost forgotten how pleasant it was to work in a quiet office, after everyone else had gone home. It's just him and Jeremy, clicking and chatting and occasionally frowning at their software being uncooperative. 

"Did it work?" 

Jeremy's voice cuts into the silence. 

He narrows his eyes. "The pool day? Not sure. I'll have to find out on Sunday." 

"Ah, yeah," says Jeremy, understanding, "I guess neither of them are old enough for cell phones yet, huh. Did it all go smoothly, with the changeover?" 

"...No." 

The single word makes his heart start racing with fear; now he has to  _talk_  about it, and he really doesn't want to, but what else can he do? 

"Whaddaya mean,  _no_? Are you okay?" 

"Eleven years, we were together," Ryan says quietly. He doesn't look up from his hands, from where he's scratching absently at a hangnail, but he definitely feels the change in air pressure when Jeremy slumps down in Jack's chair. 

"What  _happened_?" 

"She's got a new boyfriend, I think. Or at least a regular hookup. And now he's around my  _kids_  and it's been, what, eight months? Nine months since we separated? That would have been enough time for our baby to--" 

"Don't do this to yourself, Ryan," Jeremy interrupts. "She's not worth a  _second_  of any of your feelings. Not anymore." 

"But what do I  _do?_ " Ryan asks, "what do I do when it makes me feel like I just got sucker-punched in the gut?" 

And, of course, Jeremy has the answers: "you talk to Lindsay," he says. "Talk to Lindsay, and Ashley, and Mica, and Meg, and Kdin, and see how cool all the women in your life are supposed to be. Then talk to Michael, and Jon, and Geoff, and Burnie, because you fit in with them to be  _the best damn dad you can be_." 

Ryan swallows. 

"...I have to tell you something good, now." 

"Why?" Jeremy laughs. 

"I'll only talk to you when I'm complaining, otherwise, and that's not fair." 

"Ryan, you're going through a  _super_ rough patch, I don't think that at all--" 

"--It's you," Ryan says. 

And his co-worker stops, shock spreading across his face like Ryan had hit him with a well-timed slap instead of a little honesty. "...Oh." 

"Yeah," he shrugs, "you're always around to hear me moaning about shit that you don't even have to deal with. But you always seem to wanna deal with it, and I appreciate that. So thank you." 

"I didn't tell you the whole truth, that day. When you asked why I was doing this. When I gave the girls pie." 

The man's expression is earnest; Ryan doesn't know how extra work hours turned into emotional Show and Tell, but he's pretty damn pleased it did. "Oh, yeah...? What's the real story then?" 

Jeremy looks up through his fucking eyelashes, and flashes a shockingly brilliant smile, and says, "it's Admit You're Happy Month. And I am happy. I've got friends, and they have kids are partners and get-togethers and a brilliant job we all share. And I've got  _you_."  

Ryan jerks his head up to look at him. That was new. 

"So I fully intend to fucking share the happiness, dude," he laughs, but he sounds serious about it. "That's what we're here for, in the end. Well, that's what I think, anyway. Might not be true, but it's what I wanna do." 

Ryan has never wanted to kiss someone so badly in all his life. 

"You look like you needed the sharing," Jeremy explains, "so I'm glad it's working." 

"Me too," murmurs Ryan, and wonders if he can come out of this still intact on the other side. What a fucking  _mess_ he's in, now, with this guy who tells him that his gratitude is mutual, with this man who's five feet and four inches of strange ideas and stranger execution. 

He'd thought his system had been working. It hadn't. It had needed someone to get the real story from him, and stop him bottling shit up, and make him forget his reasons for misery (without even really trying). The system  _didn't work_  when Ryan was alone. The system needed Jeremy. 

He tips back in his office chair, and clicks 'save', feeling the tension leave his muscles.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out to @donvex on tumblr for helping me with the jokes. (Additional shout out to @jeremwood, who didn't supply any jokes for this chapter, but did spend five hours making cheese puns with me. Babble Buddies, or something! :D)

**August** **16th** **–**   **Wednesday**  

 

"Hey, Gavin?" 

"What's up, Lil J." 

"What hand do you use to stir your coffee with?" 

"Erm," says Gavin, trying to concentrate on his screen, "my right hand, I s'pose." 

"Oh really? Right hand, huh..." 

"Why?" He says defensively. "What's wrong with that?" 

"Oh, nothing. I usually use a spoon, that's all." 

The audio levels flatten as everyone digests this information, before Geoff sighs heavily into his microphone. Michael snorts in appreciation. Gavin guffaws. 

"Jeremy. Oh, that was  _so bad_ , Jeremy..." 

"Hey, Jack," Jeremy says, ignoring him. "Why does a flamingo stand on one leg?" 

Jack chuckles. They're recording an episode of Sky Factory – evidently Jeremy's decided to fill the lull in activity and excitement with some terrible jokes. "Oh, god, Lil J, I don't know if I wanna know." 

"Because," he says, with the air of someone who feels put out that nobody's playing along, "if they lifted the other leg  _they'd fall_." 

Okay, that one was actually sort of funny. 

Jeremy either doesn't know what he's unleashed, or knows  _exactly_  what he's unleashed and is loving every second of it. Soon enough, everyone's contributing the worst jokes they can think of, and most of them surprisingly family friendly. Some fall flat (due to cultural differences: "Why do elephants have big ears? 'Cos Noddy wouldn't pay the ransom!" "...Gavin, what the  _fuck_ is a Noddy?") and some make Geoff roar with laughter. 

"Knock knock," says Michael. 

"Who's there?" 

"Interrupting cow." 

Ryan makes a face. "Interrupting cow, wh--" 

" ** _MOOOOOOOOOOOO_** ," screeches Michael. 

He blows out the audio. Geoff cries. 

It's when he's getting snacks after they finish up the recording – Gavin and Geoff kept murmuring  _'moo'_ to each other and setting themselves off all over again – that he spots Jeremy. 

"What's the holiday?" he smirks, because he's caught on to this little game now, and nothing Jeremy's doing this August is spontaneous. Not in the slightest. 

"Ah," Jeremy laughs, "it's National Joke Day, so... I told some  _world-class_ jokes." 

He pulls the tab on his soda. "Mmmm, well... Sure." 

"Quit riding my ass, Haywood! I'm only doing it 'cos everyone in the office was a cheerless  _fuck_  this morning, like, I know it's Hump Day or whatever but c'mon, guys--" 

"You're a dumbass," Ryan grins. 

"And  _you_ ," Jeremy says, pointing his water bottle at Ryan's face for emphasis, "left your Facebook account open on your computer again. I put your editing into the taskbar earlier and saw all your shit. If you don't want me to make positive video content, then don't give me excuses to make you smile for once, pal." 

And he fucking  _winks_ , and walks away. There's almost a swagger to his step. 

Man, screw Jeremy Dooley for being so intuitive. Ryan darts back to his PC and opens the browser, and, well, that's embarrassing, because it's open on his ex-wife's profile. She recently changed her picture. Ryan feels the same stab of miserable anger when he looks at Natalie and Jesse's dumb, sneering faces. 

So he messages Jeremy. 

 

 **Ryan Haywood:**   **A man goes to the doctor for his annual**   **check-** **up** **, and the doctor tells him, "y** **ou really need to stop masturbating."**  

 **Ryan Haywood:**   **So** **t** **he man asks** **"w** **hy?"**  

 **Ryan Haywood: And t** **he doctor say** **s, "b** **ecause I'm trying to examine you, sir"**  

 

He can hear Jeremy shrieking with laughter from all the way down the corridor. Ryan takes a generous sip of Diet Coke, and closes the Facebook tab; it's not the sort of thing he wants to waste any more time or energy on.


	18. Chapter 18

**August 17th** **\- Thursday**  

 

Ryan clearly has a talent for bad timing; asking Jeremy to come over and do nothing with him after work results in a schedule clash  _again_. 

"Sorry, Ry," Jeremy had said sheepishly, "I... I kinda promised Gavin I'd spend today's holiday with him. He's been wanting attention since I gave out that candy, so we're gonna see what monstrosities we can find in the Goodwill across town." 

"Goodwill?" Ryan questions. 

"It's, uh, National Thriftshop Day? We're gonna Macklemore it up." Jeremy pauses: "I bet if I asked him, he wouldn't mind if you came--" 

"No, no," Ryan laughs, waving him off, "it's fine, really, you have an evening out with Gavin. Let me know what you find, oh god." 

So Ryan resigns himself to getting chores done that evening instead, because he has  _some_ of the energy necessary to socialise with people he likes, but he doesn't have the resolve to withstand more rejection. 

Jack fucks that up for him, too. With  _kindness_. 

"Hey, Ryan, you don't have the kids this week, right? Wanna come over for dinner with me and Caiti?" he asks, poising the question over their adjacent desks. "It's my turn to cook tonight and I always make too much. And it's been a little while since we all caught up." 

Ryan considers it, against cooking too much for himself and having to eat the leftovers for lunch tomorrow,  _again_. 

"Are you sure?" he asks. 

Jack immediately lights up. "I'm positive, man. I'm firing up the grill, I'm making spicy wings." 

"Then I'd love to come," he decides. "You have promised wings, and therefore, I will be present." 

And with a sincere, slightly-too-loud exclamation of, " _aw_ _esome_!" Ryan finds himself driving to Jack and Caiti's for dinner at six PM. 

"Thanks for having me, Caiti," he says, when she greets him at the door, and they both wind through the hallways until they get to the couple's French doors. The Pattillo & Ward house is one that Ryan finds pleasant; there's a vibrant and large garden, gentle pastel colours on every wall, and there's  _never_  a moment when music isn't playing. He spots Jack outside. He's spraying ignition fluid on the grill. "Although," he adds, "it is kinda weird seeing people I know from work doing normal  _responsible_  stuff, I gotta be honest." 

"I've locked him out there," Caiti laughs. "We don't want smoke in the house." 

"Or fire?" 

"Or fire," she confirms, and her eyes twinkle. "I'm glad you came, Ryan. It's been ages since I saw you." 

They perch on the sofa, watching Jack try to get the grill going, because he hasn't noticed their presences yet. "Same here," Ryan agrees, "I'm sorry I haven't dropped by sooner. How's college?" 

She makes a face. "Algebra is hard." 

"Ohhhh, yeah, it is. Can't wait for  _that_  homework to come back with Lillian." 

"Yeah, but you're a nerd, you love it" Caiti smiles, her accent catching on the word 'nerd'. Ryan wants to fight back, but Jack chooses that moment to notice that they have company. He waves, fumbles the tongs uselessly for a second, and gives up to crack open the doors. 

"Hey, Ryan! I just got the grill lit, you two should come sit outside." 

"Is the cooler out there?" 

"I already brought it out, there's Diet Coke in there for Ryan, too." 

"Oh," says Ryan, touched, "thanks, Jack." 

It's pretty nice to hang out with the two of them. The smell of cooking meat is in the air – Jack's roasting vegetables, as well, so the yard is filled with the smell of tomatoes and garlic – and the sun is still surprisingly high in the sky. Dinner, Ryan decides, is best eaten outside during late August. And the conversation even goes smoothly until Jack brings up Jeremy. 

"What's going on there, like, with your kids and you hangin' out and stuff?" he says, leaning forwards in his lawn chair. Ryan feels himself flushing red before he has a chance to refute it, and Jack laughs, startled: "oh, my  _God_ , are you two...?" 

"No," says Ryan, "we're not." 

"But you wanna?" 

Ryan is silent. This means that he catches the look that the couple share. 

"What's stopping you?" Caiti asks. 

"Uh,  _everything_. My kids. My ex-wife.  _Jeremy_. Not to mention I haven't told my brother I'm not straight..." 

"Well, that's easily taken care of," says Jack, listing them off on his fingers. "Your ex-wife is  _terrible_  and you shouldn't care what she thinks, she's a damn hypocrite. Charlie's a cool dude from what I remember? And your sister would totally destroy him if she thought he wasn't being okay with it." 

"What about Lillian and Milo?" Ryan protests. 

Jack gives him a withering glare. " _Ryan_ , man, get it together. Your kids love Jeremy. And he loves your kids! Remember when they met and Lillian was still little enough, she couldn't say 'Lil J' properly?" 

"…That joke's still going," he admits. 

"Right! He doesn't have to move in and get married to you immediately, damn, dude. Just ask him out." 

Ryan takes a big swig of Diet Coke, so that he doesn't have to reply straight away, and briefly wonders if he's developing an anxious habit of doing so. "What about  _Jeremy_? He's younger than me. He definitely doesn't like me that way. I'm actually kinda worried he's just hanging out because he feels sorry for me--" 

"Not  _that's_  bullshit," Jack says. 

"Yeah, shut up about being younger," giggles Caiti, "he's only a couple months older than me, and me and Jack are married. It's not that it doesn't matter, but it's not as big of a hurdle as you might think." 

"Plus, he's definitely into you." 

Ryan sprays out a small amount of soda. He pinches his nose to ease the pain, and grits out,  _"what?!"_  

Caiti gestures with such a degree of exasperation that she smudges her glasses. "For god's  _sake_ , man! Just ask if you can kiss him!" 

And he feels very, very small, and sad, and shy, and  _young,_ when he plays with the metal tab on his can of Coke and says, "but... what if he says  _no_?" 

Both husband and wife shoot him appreciative looks. 

"Oh," says Caiti, "he won't." 

"Yeah, shut the fuck up,  _teen male model_." 

Though it quickly devolves into a fight (because Ryan flicks a cold blob of salsa in response, and honestly, how could the other two resist the urge to return fire?), and the conversation moves on, he can't help but take it to heart. 

He's missing part of the picture. 

As for the  _specifics_ , well... He has no idea what it might be. And Ryan's a little scared to try to find out.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late - I wasn't feeling too good yesterday, so I'm a little bit behind. My apologies!!

**August 18th** **\- Friday**  

 

Gavin comes into work that morning with a backpack of shiny new objects for his workspace, and is also wearing a shirt with reads 'I Survived Y2K'. 

"What?" he laughs, catching Ryan's expression. "Jeremy got it for me." 

"I mean, I saw the picture of the shirt where the cats were barfing up rainbows, so I was expecting worse." 

"Didja say you had a mug, Gav?" asks Michael. So far, it's only him, Gavin, and Ryan who have arrived in the office – they're expecting everyone else soon, though, because they're filming AHWU later on. 

Gavin rummages around in his backpack. "Yeah," he says, "look at my relic, boi." 

He sets down a mug with the Cheetos mascot on it, who seems to be saying that ' _it_ _ain't_ _easy_ _bein_ _'_ _cheezy_ '. Ryan narrows his eyes. "They haven't used that slogan for quite a while, Gavin, are you sure it's a good idea to drink out of that?" 

"It's a great idea," Michael says firmly. "Almost as good as, uh, the creepy baby statue that he's gonna put on Matt Bragg's desk..." 

"Jesus." 

Gavin shakes his head. "Not Jesus -  _baby_. Although there were a fair few creepy Jesus statues, too... Oh, Lil J! Jeremy,  _God--_ " 

And he's been set off as soon as Jeremy walks through the door, because the man is wearing the most godawful tee Ryan's seen in forever. It's got fish swimming over it in neon watercolours; the print is ripped straight out of a fun-looking restroom from the early nineties. 

It's also a size smaller than the shirts Jeremy usually wears. 

"You look like a bus seat!" Gavin snickers. "That's  _amazing_." 

"You know you have to wear that on AHWU today, right?" 

He waves a hand at Michael in dismissal. "Ehhh," he grins, "it'll be worth it. Besides, I wanna see Geoff's reaction, he's gonna love my fishy top." 

Ryan tries to busy himself by getting a water out of the refrigerator, because his heart's beating so hard he thinks he might throw up, but then Jeremy comes over to get a drink  _too,_ and oh god, now he has to talk to him whilst Michael and Gavin fawn over the other thrift-store purchases. 

"Morning, Ry." 

"Uh, hey. That is a....  _loud_ shirt, Lil J," he says, avoiding any mention of how the man's chest looks in snug fit. 

Jeremy looks down and plucks at the material, grinning in a way that suggests he knows it's ugly, but he still loves it. "Oh, yeah, it's awesome," he smirks, "and it  _says_  it's XXL sized in the label, but... I don't know, maybe it's so vintage that people were smaller back when it was made." 

"Maybe," Ryan tries not to squeak. "Looks like it's older than me--" 

"Psssh, but that's not old at all!" he replies, laughing, and Ryan actually has to excuse himself before he develops some sort of heart trouble. 

He does a lap around the inside of the premises, hoping he can calm himself down enough to be presentable when the others clock in; he  _especially_  doesn't want to be seen being this particular flavour of gay to millions of subscribers. When he gets back to the Achievement Hunter office, he takes a deep breath, and goes to make a move inside, but... Well, the door's propped ajar with an Amazon parcel, and he can hear everything that's going on in there. 

"I  _told_  you it wasn't going to work--" 

"Are you taking the mick?" Gavin says, "that was the best t-shirt I could've picked out for you! Did you see his face?" 

 _"No_ , _"_ says Jeremy adamantly. "I didn't see his face. I saw how uncomfortable he looked when he  _left_. Look, this was a stupid idea, I'm sorry, Gav. I shouldn't have... Yeah. I'll just be one second." 

Ryan jumps as the door opens forcefully: "hi, Ryan," Jeremy says, looking hurt, and clenches his hands into fists as he walks down the corridor. 

He wanders into the room. Gavin's staring after him; Michael's got his face in a single hand. 

"What was that all about?" 

"He just needs some time to cool off, I think," says Gavin.  

And, true to his word, Jeremy comes back in with a bright smile and a huge amount of energy just in time for AHWU. He even gives a close-up of his ridiculously tight shirt in the first thirty seconds of footage. They run through the video game news – Jack takes a Nerf bullet to the face at some point – and unbox some of their mail. 

"Sweet," Michael says, "someone got us pens shaped like different kinds of bullets!" 

Geoff grins: "oh, that's perfect for whatever the holiday is today. What's the holiday today, Jeremy?" 

"Uh, August 18th, we're filming this. So... Bad Poetry Day." 

"Oh, cool, I've got one." Geoff gets right up in the camera's lens. "Eh-hem. 'Roses are red. Violets are blue. Gavin's the worst'--" 

"Oi!" 

"--'he can go fuck himself'." 

"That didn't sound like bad poetry to me, Geoff," says Michael, which earns him a sulky face from the subject of the artistic piece. 

When Ryan gets back to his desk after they wrap filming, there's another post it note. This time, however, it looks like everyone's got one. They all have little poems on. He glances at Jack's -  

 

 **Jack is probably**    
**An amazing wrestler.**    
**Can't you challenge Michael or something?**    
**K.O!**  

 

There's a little drawing of Jack punching Michael in the face. Vaguely, Ryan realises it's an acrostic poem. He looks at Geoff's - 

 

 **Geoff likes that word** **stuff.**    
**A haiku is short and sweet -**    
**Less effort to read.**  

 

That one earned the poet a snort. Ryan's own, however, is a little less joking. 

 

 **Blond hair,**    
**Nice ass,**    
**Dumb smile?**    
**Cares a lot.**    
**Bad memory -**    
**Needs to remember he's the best :)**  

 

So he got free verse. That was pretty cool. 

He peels it off his monitor with the utmost care, and puts it in the top drawer with the others. It almost feels rude to read the post it notes meant for the other side of the room, now, so he goes to use the restroom and tries not to be too nosy. 

As he passes Jeremy in the corridor, he says, "that shirt really is something. It suits you, Lil J." 

"Oh," says Jeremy, turning a little bit pink. "…Thanks, Ryan. Maybe I'll wear it again sometime." 

"The audience would love that," he replies, smiling with the effort of not saying ' _I would love that'_ , and the two continue on their separate ways.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! My wonderful partner surprised me with a weekend visit, so I watched films and ate snacks instead of writing about Jeremwood. I'm not sorry. <3

**August 19th**   **–**   **Saturday**  

 

Ryan wakes up at eight in the morning to some...  _interesting_  texts. 

 

 **Jeremy Dooley: I was** **gonna** **ask you over today to play video games or hang out? Or anything?? But** **itsfour** **in the morning and I'm SUPER sick**  

 **Jeremy Dooley: I'm really sorry I'm gross but I wanted to let you**   **klnow** **that I**   **ws** **thingkign** **about you**

 

And then, from about an hour ago: 

 

 **Jeremy Dooley: Woah, sorry about that pal. Looks like I mixed some medications last night.**  

 

Ryan shovels cereal into his mouth, showers, and texts Jeremy onto the way to the grocery store. 

 

 **Ryan Haywood: I'll be there in an hour**. 

 

It's not that he  _ignores_  Jeremy's protesting, per se, but he does send back a few negatives whilst he's in the preserves aisle.  _No way. Nope. Nada. Still coming over. You want some_ _NyQuil_ _?_  

When he pulls up at the man's apartment complex, he notices that the pool is a lot more crowded than it was last week; clearly Jeremy had picked an amazing time to organise the swim day. Whether it was chance, thorough planning, or something, else, Ryan had no idea – but it is all he can think about, when he's staring at the glow-in-the-dark elevator stars on the way up to the sixth floor. 

Jeremy opens the door, and proceeds to look like shit. 

"You look like  _shit_." 

"Thanks a million," he croaks. 

"God, you even sound like shit, Lil J. Let me come in, I brought you stuff." Ryan pushes his way into the apartment – Jeremy sniffles, allows him to pass, and wraps his blanket tighter around himself, and really, who needs a blanket in August? - and Ryan sets down all his things on the kitchen worktop. 

"Go lie down. I'll be there in five." 

"...You're an asshole." 

"Couch. Now," Ryan says sternly, "I'm an asshole who's about to make you feel a hundred times more human." 

He bustles about, boiling water and warming mugs, as he listens to Jeremy collapse on the couch and groan thickly. The fragrant smell of flavoured tea rises in the steam; he's also left a box of painkillers on the side, which he grabs when he's done preparing the remedy. 

"Here," he says, carrying the mug through to the living room. "There's lemon and ginger tea, which isn't as good as lemon and ginger  _oils_ , but it'll do for now. I put a couple of spoonfuls of honey in there. Hopefully, the ginger will stop you feeling sick, and the lemon will help with your throat, and the honey is gonna help with both--" 

"Did you know about my day?" Jeremy interrupts. 

He hands over the tea. "No. Why?" 

"Honey Bee Awareness Day," he says hoarsely, accepting it and warming his hands on the china, "love those bees." 

 Ryan pops out the capsules from the foil wrapper, and passes them over for Jeremy to take. "Didn't know about the day, no. Good job for you that my Nanna used to make me drink this when I was a kid." 

"Taste good....?" 

"Mm, no, I hate it. But you might like it." 

Jeremy half-shrugs, takes a tentative sip, and makes a face. 

"Bad?" Ryan asks. 

" _Hot_ ," he says, "but not bad." 

"Huh. That's a win. Well, if you can keep it down, then I guess you'll be feeling better in no time." 

Jeremy turns over on the couch, pulling his blanket closer under his chin, and makes room for Ryan to sit down. 

"You want me to stay?" Ryan says, surprised. 

Jeremy nods pathetically. 

"Right," he nods, and takes a seat on the couch. The remote control is on the arm, so he flicks on the TV to something that looks suspiciously like NCIS, and hopes to high heaven that nothing too gory gets shown. "Finish your tea, asshole, you're not gonna get your voice back otherwise. Hey, I'll even make you soup later, if you want." 

Jeremy nods again. Halfway through, he seems to change his mind about being curled up on the opposite seats, and, with only minimal dizziness, he puts his head in Ryan's lap. 

Ryan forgets, briefly, how to exhale. 

And then his paternal instincts kick in, and he sinks into the couch. Muscles relaxing. Brow unfurrowing. A warm hand, sliding into Jeremy's damp hair. 

"Chicken noodle okay?" 

Jeremy nods again. His nose rubs against the denim at Ryan's knee, and a couple on TV start kissing. 

Ryan glances down. The chicken noodle might have to wait a little while.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 20th is National Radio Day. Here's some family fluff to tide you over til I upload the next one.

**August 20th** **\- Sunday**  

 

When he goes to pick up the kids that afternoon, it's raining. He can't bear to go to the door, not when Jesse's car is so prominently in the driveway, so he waits with the engine running until his kids stomp out into the puddles. The radio's cranked already, so that Lillian and Milo can settle straight into their sing-along routine. 

 

 **Geoff Ramsey: Kids this afternoon?**  

 

 **Ryan Haywood: Picking them up** **now. School tomorrow. Hope Flo's ready as well**  

 

 **Geoff Ramsey: She is :) Jeremy says he's feeling better** **too, he** **ard you were over yesterday.**  

 

 **Ryan Haywood: That's good.**  

 

 **Geoff Ramsey: You**   **going to** **do anything about this?**  

 

 **Ryan Haywood: Uh**  

 **Ryan Haywood: Not sure yet.**  

 **Ryan Haywood: Maybe?**  

 

 **Geoff Ramsey: Well, fucking hurry up**  

 **Geoff Ramsey: He might not wait forever, and he sure as hell isn't doing August shit because of the rest of us.**  

 

Ryan blanches. 

 _What_ _?_  

 

 **Geoff Ramsey: Left handers and books? It's all extra. There's always enough food for everyone, but the first person he thinks of is you, so take your thumbs out of your ass and put them up his instead??**  

 **Geoff Ramsey: I don't know how it works. Don't care either. Just do SOMETHING**   **dickhead**  

 

He flicks the lock button on his cell when the doors to the back seats open up. 

"Hi, Dad!" 

"Hey, peanut, do you want a hand?" 

"No," says Milo, "I can do it--" 

"Me too, I'll help him, Dad!" says Lillian, throwing her bag into the footwell. 

"Okay, let me know when you're finished up," he says, and turns back towards the wheel. He fiddles with the radio until some Taylor Swift song emerges from the static, which is always a positive, because those songs have lots of 'oooo's and 'aaaah's for the kids to shriek along to. That's what you do for the people you love, he thinks to himself – he's not the biggest fan of Taylor, but if his children are gonna sing along to someone's material, he might as well suffer through something relatively harmless.


	22. Chapter 22

**August 21st** **\- Monday**  

 

Jeremy sidles up to him at around three that afternoon. 

"First day back, Geoff told me." 

"Took 'em in this morning," Ryan grins, and takes out his cell. "You wanna see the pictures?" 

He flicks through his album folder until he gets to Lillian and Milo, standing outside the front door in their brand new clothes and shoes. They're beaming – Lillian with significantly more gaps in her teeth than her brother has – and they're hugging backpacks like the secrets of the universe could be hidden in the grade books. 

"That's fucking  _cute_ , holy shit. They gonna be alright?" 

Ryan sighs. "Well, they both love learning stuff, but Lillian's... more of a people-person than Milo. I'm kinda worried he's gonna hide and cry his way through the day." 

"I bet first grade is rough these days," Jeremy nods. "Hey... I think I've asked before about some of these, but? Dairy? Peanuts, cherry, anything like that, you're all good with it, right?" 

"Yeah," says Ryan carefully. 

"I'm gonna swing by around six, then, if that's okay," he smiles. "Got some deliveries to do after work." 

Ryan briefly questions the word 'deliveries' as Jeremy walks away, because what deliveries could Jeremy  _possibly_ have to carry out, but then he realises he's got to pick up his kids soon. Geoff gave him a couple hours off so he could be there – there's no excuse for being late. 

They're very excited by the icebreakers they got to participate in. They're equally as excited to learn that Jeremy's coming over that evening to see them. (It's a little bit contagious, too.) 

Ryan has white fish baking in the oven, and is whipping up a white sauce to go with it, when he hears the door go - "I've got it!" calls Lillian – and he leans out of the doorway to make sure it's their expected guest. 

Jeremy doesn't spot him. He retreats, trying to concentrate on the sauce, and lets his eldest explore the responsibility of greeting a guest. 

"Hey, Lilly N," he hears Jeremy say, in the grandest voice he can muster up, "is the master of the house available?" 

"You're talking to her," she quips, and, oh god, he nearly drops the pan from the effort of suppressing his laughter. 

"I see," says Jeremy. "Well, if the master of the house could summon her father, then there might be..." 

 _Whisper_ _whisper_ _whisper_. 

Ah. Secret holiday stuff, then. 

Lillian comes bounding into the kitchen. "Dad! Lilly J wants to talk to you. About a freezer.  _Shhhh_." 

"Send him in," he grins, and waves the spatula equally as grandly – whoops, he  _may_ have spattered white sauce all over the drywall. As she leaves, he calls after her: "good job on answering the door, honey!" 

"Cute." 

"You want a freezer for what, now?" Ryan says, without turning away from the sauce. 

"Present. For getting through the school day. Don't worry, Ry, I brought enough to deepen your cavities, too..." 

He gestures wordlessly with the toe of a sneaker, puts the sauce on a low heat, and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel. When he turns around, Jeremy's elbow deep in the freezer, all windswept and lovely from the drive over. 

"Stay?" Ryan says accidentally. It doesn't sound much like a question. 

Jeremy braces his hands on his knees and stands up. "Sorry?" 

"Stay," he clarifies, clearing his throat a little, "if you don't have plans, then... I don't know. We're about to eat. It's white fish and potatoes and veggies, I mean, it's nothing special but the kids would love to have you--" and _me, I would love to have you over,_ he thinks-- 

"I don't have plans," Jeremy says quietly, "or, well, I just got plans. I'd love that. Thanks, Ryan." 

"No problem," he chuckles. "I always cook too much anyway, you'd be doing me a favour." 

(It suddenly occurs to Ryan that perhaps the reason for his poor estimation in the kitchen isn't because he never got used to life without Natalie – it could be, instead, that he's preparing to get used to a life with someone else in it.) 

Jeremy insists on setting the table, because he's an asshole who can't accept the fact that he's a guest and doesn't have to do anything. The man takes a step back from the school stories of the day, as though he's trying to leave the memory of Milo's first upcoming show-and-tell in grade school all to Ryan – and he almost gets away with the casual surveillance of their little family unit, too, until Ryan ropes him into a Dooley-centric conversation. 

He's a part of the table tonight, too, after all. 

"So," Ryan says innocently. "What's the date today, Milo?" 

"August twenty-first." 

"And what's the  _day_ today, Jeremy?" 

"Yeah," Milo parrots, "what's the day today?" 

Lillian swallows a mouthful of peas with gargantuan effort. "Is there a holiday?" she asks, wide-eyed. 

"Hey, don't choke," Jeremy laughs, "we'll get there! I brought you some of the celebration. It's a 'well done' present for surviving your first day back – and your first day  _ever,_ can't forget about that, Milo. I taste-tested it with the Jones family beforehand, and I think it came out pretty good." 

"What  _day_  is it!" says Milo, smiling from ear to ear with impatience, and hell, it's not even a question anymore. 

"Are you good for dessert, Ryan?" 

"It's your food," he shrugs, "I'm good for dessert at  _any time_." 

The kids cheer; Jeremy flashes that brilliant smile Ryan's way again, and darts away to return with-- 

"Hey, it's ice-cream again! Like your sandwiches," he says, recalling earlier in the month. "They're little slices this time, though." 

"What do the colours mean?" asks Milo. 

"Well," Jeremy says, pointing, "it's National Spumoni Day. Spumoni is an Italian ice cream. The green is pistachio... The pink is cherry... And the brown there is chocolate. When Italian people came to America, they brought this with them." 

"You'd better go grab some bowls, Lillian," Ryan says, awestruck. "Did you  _make_  this, Jeremy?" 

Jeremy sets the tupperware on the table and awkwardly takes a seat, like he's embarrassed about having a talent for cooking. "I... Yeah. Finally figured out how to make the batches right. The pistachios kept sinking," he explains, turning the colour of the cherry ice cream. 

"You're a genius," Ryan says honestly. 

"Thanks, haha. Michael's reaction was a lot less family friendly." 

"He didn't like it?" 

"No, he loved it," Jeremy says, dispelling the shock, "I gave it to him because it reminded me of New Jersey. He wants some for his next birthday." 

Lillian returns with plates and spoons: "here we go, Lilly J! Thanks for the ice cream!" 

"You're welcome, kid," Jeremy says, looking even more pleased. 

If his and Ryan's knees touch under the dining table, wordless and intimate whilst the two schoolkids swap pistachio and cherry pieces between each other, neither mention it. 

The next time Ryan opens his mouth, it's to protest when Jeremy lets slip that it's also Senior Citizen Day – man, he's got enough to deal with at work without his kids teasing him about his age. Come  _on_. 

"Stop laughing, Milo, I'm not old yet." 

Jeremy laughs into the heel of his hand, letting the chaos erupt around him. Ryan thought he'd be more shocked at the realisation, but it clicks into place in his mind as naturally as the man's presence at mealtime feels like – he's in love with Jeremy, and that's all there is to it. 

It's not a fantasy, or a desperate wish, or a crush or attraction or infatuation. 

It's real deal stuff. And it feels so normal that it doesn't even frighten him.


	23. Chapter 23

**August 22nd** **\- Tuesday**  

 

"SOLDIERS!" 

Milo and Lillian stand up straighter. 

"That includes you, too, Dooley!  _Discipline_!" 

"Yes,  _sir_ ," Jeremy snorts, and, well, if he's trying to be an asshole and get a rise out of him, it's not working at all. 

Ryan paces back and forth; the end of August is still warm and light, but with a quieter presence than June or July evenings. It's not too hot, and it's not too blinding, and it's a perfect day for: 

"The obstacle course," Ryan says in a matter-of-fact tone. "All must conquer it –  _few succeed_." 

"I'm ready!" says Lillian. 

"Then  _go, go, GOOOOO,_ " Ryan yells, pointing at the first stage and trying not to smile too much – that would be breaking character. 

Lillian dives through the tunnel, crawls under the rope obstacle, jumps the hurdles, and falls over the vault. Ryan cringes, but, lo and behold, the inflatable mattress they'd put down on the other side saves her from any kind of damage. She pops up, putting her feet into every hoop down the final sprint, and Ryan blows his whistle when she finishes.  

"Time?" he shouts. 

"One minute and twelve seconds! Sir!" Jeremy bellows back. He and Milo are fiddling with a tiny metal stopwatch, the kind that clicks at the top to measure the time taken. "I think it's gonna be a difficult time to beat, sir!" 

"Haywood! Milo! You're up!" 

Whilst Milo prepares to jet off from the start line, Ryan wanders over to Jeremy: "thanks for helping me out with this, Lil J," he murmurs. 

"No problem," Jeremy replies, equally as quietly, as Milo tangles himself up in the rope tunnel. "Today's Be An Angel Day, I figured it was my good deed, or whatever." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"They had a recipe of the day, too, but it was grilled green beans and mushrooms, and that didn't seem like something the kids would eat." 

Ryan nods. "You're exactly right. Lillian hates mushrooms, and Milo hates green beans." 

"Good call, then?" 

"Oh, the best," he smiles. "Man, I have  _got_ to figure out which site you're getting all of this information from." 

Milo does a perfect vault and tumbles over the finish line. "How'd I do, Jeremy?" he calls. 

"One minute thirty four, that's pretty good, pal!" Jeremy shouts back, and, god, Ryan keeps catching himself in these little moments where Jeremy's doing something, or talking to someone, and is totally caught up in his own brief minutes of vivaciousness, and Ryan just... doesn't know how to begin to tell him about it. 

 _Hey, Jeremy, I really loved you just now. Just so you know._  

It always sounded ridiculous in his brain; god knows how it'd sound out loud. 

"What should my good deed for the day be?" he asks instead. 

Jeremy replies without a second's hesitation: "being nicer to yourself." 

Ryan flinches. 

"I'm serious," Jeremy says, tearing his eyes away from Lillian's second attempt, "you're a great dad, and a great man. For god's sake, look at your kids, look how happy they are. Look at your job and all the people who watch you and love you. The fuckin' least you can do is stop beating yourself up over nothing, Ry." 

He stares, gaze flicking between the hair on Jeremy's chin and the little lines at the edges of his eyes, until Milo shouts at them. 

"Dad! We wanna time you!" 

"Yeah, you and Jeremy should go--" 

"Jeremy first! Then he can time you!" 

And the two break into grins, despite themselves. 

"Bet I can get thirty seconds," says Ryan. 

" _Ryan_. Oh, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan," Jeremy says, shaking his head fondly. "You're on. I'm a  _pro_  at vaulting." 

...Whoops. He'd forgotten about Jeremy's history with gymnastics. Although, if he was honest with himself, it  _was_  a textbook vault. 

Very nice to look at. 

(Ryan doesn't know anything about gymnastics. He just likes how Jeremy's biceps tense up when his arms support his weight.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They did it, guys. They built the obstacle course. My boys. :')


	24. Chapter 24

**August 23rd** **\- Wednesday**  

 

"You don't have, like, some secret motorbike stashed away that I don't know about, right?" 

They'd been sat outside, around the back of Stage 5 again – the concrete was warm enough on yet another occasion to fry watermelon seeds on, except on that morning, the two were simply relaxing with a cold drink in the shade.  

"No motorbike," Ryan had smiled, "it'd be cool, though. Why, is today National Speeding Day?" 

"Close enough. It's Ride the Wind Day, apparently. Which is  _why_ ," Jeremy had said, pulling up his Amazon orders on his cell phone, "I got two kites online that we could go out with this evening. If you want." 

"That sounds really nice," Ryan had said. He'd felt kind of lame and gay at the time, because he'd kind of thought about flying kites with  _just_  Jeremy and no kids in tow – yeah, they'd all have a good time out, but he's really been thinking about date nights a whole lot more as of late. 

So they go out to a big open space, where the green grass and the open playing fields and the trees seem to stretch on as far as summer is this year, and Ryan and Jeremy start to teach his kids how to fly a kite. 

"How's wind speed?" 

"Should be good," says Jeremy cheerfully. He's letting the line out whilst Milo and Lillian run off with the diamond kite; after a couple of tries, Lillian finally throws it high enough that it goes up straight away. Milo sprints to catch up with Jeremy's running. 

At times like these, Ryan doesn't feel like a bystander in his own life like he used to – he's just watching from a safe distance.  

"Can we have this one, Dad?" 

Lillian looks hopeful He glances over at his co-worker and his son, who are red in the face and fighting against the pull of the breeze. "Can you take turns?" 

"Yep." 

"Then go ahead," he smiles, "Jeremy and me are gonna get the triangle one up, and then you can both have a go. Okay?" 

 _Don't let go_ , he hears Jeremy warn them, before he jogs back over. 

Ryan won't. 

"You ready to run?" 

"Why is it my go?!" 

"I did the last one," Jeremy shoots back, challenging him, and well, yeah, that was fair. 

There are strange things happening in Ryan's brain, these days – he never thought he'd be so hyper aware of a single human being, but now it's hard to focus on anything or anyone else. It's like when his kids were born, in that it's a similar  _this person is important to me_  connection. He can't remember feeling this with Natalie. But then again, he can't remember losing it, so maybe they'd never been that strong of a partnership. 

Despite being separated by yards and feet and time and god knows what else, Ryan and Jeremy are still connected, right now, with a kite string. 

So Ryan runs. 

The wind kicks up; when it ruffles his hair, he holds the string high and stumbles across the grass, trying not to wheeze with laughter or strangle himself on the line of the first kite. 

"Hey, nice work." 

"Thanks," he breathes. It's alright for some – Jeremy only had to walk leisurely back to them. "You want a go?" 

"Sure." 

He passes over the handles, taking a quick glance over at his children. Lillian's making the kite swoop with some movements that neither of the adults had shown her yet, so they're probably alright for now. 

"I want full custody eventually," Ryan says, and Jeremy raises his eyebrows in shock. 

"Shit, Ryan, where did that come from?" 

He shrugs, as though it came from nowhere. (It was born from the moment; he doesn't want to send his kids back to a place where their family don't appreciate their interests, or let them be kids. Jeremy keeps showing him that he can understand Lillian and Milo in bigger, better ways.) 

"You know you're gonna have to lawyer up, right?" 

"Yeah," he says, "I know." 

Jeremy lets out the string a little more, and the kite climbs higher. There are more clouds this evening than there have been over the past couple of weeks, so it's not too taxing on the eyes to try to focus in on the fluttering sheet of plastic they sent up there. 

"I'm gonna try to talk to her about it, first, though. I don't want to go behind her back. I  _want_  them to see her, like, of course I do, but..." 

"But she's not doing enough?" Jeremy finishes. 

Ryan shakes his head. "They sit at home all day. She doesn't read to them. She doesn't cook for them. She doesn't take them anywhere except the same restaurants, over and over. I'm not actually sure she cares at all." 

Jeremy bites the inside of his lip, staring at the grass, and seems to decide on a course of action. 

"Take the kite." 

"What?" 

"Take the kite, Haywood," he repeats, holding out the kite handle, "fly the damn thing, enjoy doing childish stuff, and deal with this another day. It's your turn, pal." 

Ryan reaches out to accept the handle, and immediately lurches with the tug on the end of the line; neither let go, not for one second. Ryan wants to say that he feels the pull – he wants to say that something would have happened, with his unsteady hand over Jeremy's warm one, and with Jeremy staring up at him in the way that he's doing-- 

but it doesn't. It doesn't, because Lillian and Milo's kite falls out of the sky. 

"We  _crashed,_ Dad!" 

"Have this one," Jeremy says, barking with laughter. As he guides the kite over to the kids, and Ryan prepares to have to run again, Jeremy's thumb briefly knocks against his fingers. It's with more force than could be accidental. 

He hasn't flown a kite in years, but he hasn't crashed it yet. It's got to count for  _something_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks a bazillion for all your kind comments and flattering words. <3  
> (Sidenote: writing this fic is officially the only thing keeping me sane. I can't wait for my next semester to start, holy shit.)


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for negative self-image, BAD self-esteem issues, and lasting effects of abuse.

**August 24th** **\- Thursday**  

 

It's been a post-it note kind of day. Ryan's been leaving through the ones stashed in his top drawer periodically for about three hours now; it's been exhausting to try to be upbeat and positive for their content this afternoon. 

Still, only a couple hours to go until he goes home to see his kids. The nanny's made them food, so all he has to do is spend time with his wonderful children, make himself something to eat, and collapse into bed. 

"How're you doing?" Jeremy murmurs, when he goes to get his fifth Diet Coke of the day from the mini fridge. 

"...Bad." 

"Wanna talk about it?" 

"Yeah," Ryan says quietly. 

The two steal away, to where they like to sit in the shade at the back of the building. 

"What's on your mind, Ry?" Jeremy asks, "I was thinking of distracting you later, I was gonna pick up supplies for a killer science experiment that I bet Milo would love. You could come over, later, if you wanted--" 

"I spoke to Natalie," Ryan almost whispers. 

"Oh, Ryan,  _shit_ , I'm sorry," he says, dragging a hand down his face, "of  _course_  you don't wanna forget about that, it's about the kids." 

"Yeah. She's  _not_ happy." 

"I'll say. She never seemed like the most cheerful lady." Jeremy kicks at a lump of concrete on the floor: "anything I can do?" 

That earns a chuckle. 

"What?" 

"You've done enough," Ryan explains. "You've done  _way_  too much for us." 

"Maybe I  _wanna_ do stuff for ya," he retorts, "it's fun and you're great. Why, do you want me to stop?" 

Ryan falls silent. 

"Ry? Did you not want me to do the holiday thing anymore? I don't have to if it's making you uncom--" 

"I do want you to," Ryan interrupts, "but, damn, Jeremy, you do  _so_ much. It kind of feels like I'm not giving you anything back. I don't want you to keep putting effort into stuff if you're not getting anything in return." 

The atmosphere, despite the August daylight, has suddenly and inexplicably iced over. "Who says I'm not getting anything in return?" Jeremy asks. 

"...Me. I'm not a great friend, let's be honest." 

"That's not--" 

"Yeah, it's true," Ryan continues, "I can't even talk to a woman I had two children with before things start going wrong, and that seems like it should be an easy and meaningful kind of deal. I'm a bad friend, I was a bad husband, and I'll probably be a bad anything else in the future, y'know? I wish I was happy and cheery and bubbly all the time, but I'm not – most of the time, I'm just kinda boring and a huge buzzkill." 

"That's not true!" Jeremy says, perhaps louder than he means to, "you're not any of those things!" 

"I don't want you putting so much time into you and me if you're not getting anything out of it," he says, but-- 

"The only thing you're bad at is giving yourself chance, you fuckin' dumbass," Jeremy says, staring him down, "you're never as nasty to anyone else as you are to yourself. Fuckin'  _Christ_ , man. I don't know why you suddenly have a problem with us doing stuff together when we were both happy setting it up before." 

Ryan throws up his hands and  _explodes._ It's unfamiliar, and not entirely unlike how he felt when Jesse had replaced him in his ex-wife's house a few weeks ago: "you're  _alway_ _s_ so good to us," he shouts. "And you've always been so nice to  _me_ , and I just—I don't  _get_ it. I wish you'd realise that I'm not worth anyone's time. I don't understand why you're  _doing_  this!" 

" _Because_ \--" 

Ryan stops, and even though he's frightened by the intensity of whatever it is that glosses over Jeremy's expression, he doesn't avert his stare. 

Jeremy takes a step back and shakes his head, saying, "no, I'm not saying that now, I am  _not_  saying that right now..." 

"Saying  _what_?" Ryan presses, alarmed, but Jeremy continues to shake his head. He might not have even noticed he's doing it. 

"No, no, that's all wrong. Not now." 

Is it self-defense? Is it protecting someone he really, really cares for? Ryan doesn't know what it is about the abruptly quiet turn their disagreement's taken, but it feels wrong. He kind of wants to throw rocks across the parking lot and roar, but it hardly feels like a civil way to behave. 

Jeremy looks like he's struggling to find the words. 

"I... I just want to make you see that you deserve good stuff, Ryan, you--" he grits his teeth for a second, before continuing-- "you deserve a family who love you and surprise desserts and weekends out of the house. I wish I could make you see that, but I think I've forced it enough." 

"...Tomorrow." 

"I'm sorry?" 

"I wanna see you tomorrow," Ryan repeats, shakily, "I need to calm down. I'm blowing up at you and it's not fair. I want us to spend time together but right now... I gotta have some time to cool off." 

Natalie, in her infinite wisdom, would have pressed the matter until Ryan had tied himself in knots with exasperation and a negative self-image. " _We can talk about this now, or not at all_ ," she'd say, and Ryan's thoughts would be all scattered and messed up, and he'd try to tell her things that she'd say he was being stupid about. There's a maze inside of his brain where the hedgerows are too thick to push through; of all the casualties he thought he'd leave on his way out of there, Ryan didn't consider that  _he_  could be one of them. 

Jeremy leaves. 

There's no further talking. He wanders back into the building, and Ryan can breathe and think again, even though he doesn't particularly want to. 

On the drive home, he wonders if he's a little fucked up. (Then he laughs at himself, because  _of course_  he's a little fucked up. He's been fucked up since before the divorce, probably – the only thing that hid that fact was the broken system he'd built up in the aftermath.) 

 

 **Ryan Haywood: I'm taking the kids to see my**   **parents** **tomorrow night. We'll be gone Friday through Sunday. I'll drop them at yours as usual on Sunday afternoon.**  

 

 **Natalie Edwards: They need to see my parents too.**  

 

 **Ryan Haywood: ...Then arrange a visit? I'm just letting you know we're out of town this weekend.**    
**Ryan Haywood: See you on Sunday.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings (don't read ahead if you don't want mild spoilers) for child kidnapping-related trauma, some general post-abuse/recovery musings, and scenes of a (positive) NSFW nature.
> 
> This one's significantly longer than the other chapters. It was a busy day.

**August 25th**   **–** **Friday**  

 

 **@** **JeremyN** **Dooley** **: Today is Vesuvius Day. If you're angry, let it out... It's not good to keep that shit in**    
**7:04PM 24Aug17**  

 

Ryan puts his head in his hands. The experiment must have been that grade-school one with the vinegar and the baking soda. Or is it bicarbonate of soda? 

He can't remember. It hardly matters. 

Melanie comes back with a very cold can of Coke, and sits heavily next to him in the uncomfortable lobby chairs: "I know, I know,  _I only drink Diet, Mel_ , whatever. You're in shock," she says. "Just drink the fucking Coke, Ryan." 

He pops the tab. 

The day had started uneasily enough – he'd wanted to approach Jeremy at an appropriate time of day, and ask him if he wanted to come over on Sunday night, when the kids were back at their mom's house and the movies on TV would be especially bad. He would have apologised for how he'd reacted yesterday, and made clear that if Jeremy,  _at any point_ , felt like he wasn't getting an equal amount of  _anything_ out of their relationship (friendship? arrangement?), then he could say so at any time and Ryan would do his best to amend it. 

It sounds formal and rambling and silly in his head, now. 

The sugar in the Coke helps a  _lot_. 

"What's the plan for the kids, then, Ry?" asks his sister. "Are they still coming back with me? Or are you taking them home?" 

"If they're still okay to go with you, I'd really appreciate it," he tells her. His very  _voice_ feels heavy. "They're not spooked, and they still wanna see Mom and Dad, and I've gotta... sort out all this legal shit, now..." 

"You got it," says Mel fiercely, and hell, if Ryan thought  _he'd_ cut down anyone who threatened his family, his sister had him beat. "I'll take them up to Georgia tomorrow, we can see Charlie, too – anything I should know?" 

"Yeah," says Ryan, after a few seconds of consideration. "They... like to sing in the car." 

Despite herself, Mel smirks. 

"You got it, bro. Hey –  _call Jeremy_. He was super worried about you guys, Ry, and you know it, so pull yourself together." 

He sighs. 

"I'm flying your kids back on Sunday night, dude. Don't try to stop me. I'm not dragging my shitty little Civic all the way over here again, you gonna pick  _us_  up from the airport--" 

"--Are you  _sure_  this is okay?" 

 _"Ryan_. Look at you, you're exhausted. Call Jeremy, sort out the crazy-prevention forms, and let the young'uns handle the rest," she says, her eyes sparkling. Before he can protest again, she softens up: "I've got business in Texas next week anyway, so I might as well take an earlier flight in, it's not an inconvenience or anything. Stop worrying, for crying out loud." 

The social worker for their case herds Lillian and Milo out of the room. Both of them stand up; after a quick exchange, delivered in the soft but firm way that only dads can deliver-- 

"Hey kids, plan's still on to see Nanny and Grandpa, but you're gonna go with Auntie Mel, instead," he says, "I know it's getting late, but she'll still play your music on the car ride up there, okay? You've got your things, you're gonna stop in a hotel, like we talked about, but I've got to stay here and fill out some paperwork for the police. I'll see you on Sunday, okay?" 

\--Mel, Lillian, and Milo leave him in the waiting room. 

Whilst he's sitting around for an all-clear, he calls Jeremy. He only hovers his thumb over the icon for his contact for a second. 

 _"Ryan, thank god, what the fuck was that all about today? You just up and disappeared and Geoff wouldn't tell us where you'd gone--"_  

"Everything's fine," Ryan says, and all the air is sucked out of his lungs in sheer relief. Hearing Jeremy's voice after a few hours of concentrated stress is like breaking the surface of a too-deep pool. "Well, now, anyway. I was going to talk to you this afternoon, but then I got a call, and me and the kids were gonna see my parents but now they're with Mel, and--" 

 _"Slow down. Start from the call, pal,_ _"_ Jeremy supplies. 

"...We had to put out an Amber Alert for Lillian and Milo. Natalie picked them up from school without telling anyone she was gonna do it, the poor girl who looks after them until five phoned me up in tears." 

 _"_ _Shit_ _, Ryan!_ _"_  

"No-one got hurt," he says quickly, "they didn't even realise what was happening, so they're fine. The cops picked them up trying to get to Natalie's parents' house, so I guess she thought she could one-up me or steal the idea or something? I don't know. I've filed an emergency restraining order, anyway." 

 _"About fucking time,_ _"_  snorts Jeremy.  _"Jesus fuckin' Christ, that woman went_ _psycho_ _. They're going up to Georgia then?_ _"_  

"Yeah. It might sound dumb, but... I didn't want them in the house where Nat used to live. She knows where it is and what the inside's like, it didn't feel right--" 

 _"That's not dumb at all,_ _"_  Jeremy says gently, and the phone line feels too distant for them. 

So he takes the chance. 

"I... Jeremy? I know we wanted to talk, and I know I'm being a fucking idiot about everything, but... Can I see you?" 

 _"See me_ _?_ _"_  

"Yeah," he says, swallowing, his throat too dry, "I just, uh. I need to be with someone. She's in custody, and the kids are safe, but I still feel like shit and I need someone. I need  _you_." 

And as Jeremy falls silent, the lull in the conversation filled with the oncoming steps of their case officer, Ryan wants to hang up and forget it happened, but: 

 _"Yeah."_  

"Mr. Haywood? We've got your paperwork here. We'll be writing to you shor--" 

"Thanks," he says, taking the stack of forms hastily and tucking his phone into his shoulder. "Jeremy, can I see you in thirty minutes?" 

 _"Y_ _eah, g_ _od,_ _fuck_ _, come over. I'll be here._ _"_  

Ryan feels stupid, but he still asks: "...promise?" 

 _"I've never been_ _more sure_ _of anything in my life,"_  Jeremy replies, in the way only he can, because where a 'yes' may suffice, the Dooley way is to provide a 'yes, absolutely-definitely, let's do this'. 

Ryan drives home in the reassuring dimness of an August twilight. Natalie can't hurt him anymore. It was almost like he'd been letting her do it for his kids' sake – now that they'd been caught in the crossfire, he feels like an idiot for allowing her behaviour to continue as it had. 

Christ. The social worker had given him forms for fucking... therapy and shit, what was that he could see on the passenger seat? 

He probably needs it. 

(He definitely needs it.) 

But it could wait until next week. He's survived almost ten months of the effects of a post-Natalie life – he can get through a few days more. 

It doesn't feel good, when the thought of disturbing Jeremy at eight PM settles in his stomach. As he pulls up to the apartment block, he simultaneously has no clue what is about to transpire, and yet knows  _e_ _xactly_ what's going to happen. He laughs at the stars in the elevator when the phrase 'Schrodinger's Hookup' occurs to him, and while it's a very Ryan Haywood Joke, maybe Jeremy would appreciate it too. 

The sixth floor corridor is deserted. 

When Jeremy opens his door, the corridor feels too full. 

"Vesuvius Day," he says immediately, "yesterday, I'm  _so_ sorry about being so fucking stupid yesterday, Jeremy--" 

"Like that fucking matters now," Jeremy bites back, and pulls him into the apartment and into a crushing hug. 

They stand there, swaying in the open doorway, clutching at each other, for a long time. Ryan tries not to cry. 

"You need anything? Food? God, have you eaten since work?" 

"I'm pretty sure I fed Lillian's college fund into the vending machine at the precinct," Ryan mumbles into the cotton of Jeremy's shirt. 

"Of course you did. Who am I talking to?" 

"Some guy you know with a whole day on top of him," he says, and draws back. "Can I use your restroom? Austin has some nasty-ass waiting lobbies for police emergencies, lemme tell you." 

Jeremy points him down the hall. "Thataway. I'll be here when you get back." 

In the restroom, Ryan catches sight of himself in the mirror and sighs. An Amber Alert adds on about ten years, it seems. He uses the toilet, splashes his face, and stretches out his limbs until his shoulders click, and feels a million times better already. 

"Fresher?" 

"Much," he says gratefully, wandering back into Jeremy's living room. The man in question is lounging on the corner of the couch, where the back meets the arm. "Thanks." 

Jeremy doesn't say ' _you're welcome'_ , but he does say, "come here, Ry." 

So Ryan does, and all at once, he's got hands on his back, working out the knots in his muscles, and he shivers despite the August heat. 

"Jeremy..." 

"Yeah?" 

Ryan groans quietly as something cracks within his waist. "You don't have to--" 

"Nope," says Jeremy, "let someone else take care of you for once, you idiot-dumbass man. You do  _nothing_  but look after other people and you don't  _get_  that you need it, too." 

Ryan can't think of a proper, verbal response to that. As Jeremy is about to tell Ryan to sit back and tell him about his day (which would be quite sweet and domestic, had his day not involved what was technically a kidnapping), he does the only thing that comes to mind. He twists around on the couch and presses their lips together. 

Jeremy sucks cold air past their teeth in surprise. And, oh  _god_ , does it feel nice when he starts to move – their teeth catch briefly as they kiss, open-mouthed, and try to get a feel for the other's style. The drag of Jeremy's beard against Ryan's open palm is grounding. He twists in his seat, trying to get a better angle: 

"Is your hair wet?" 

"Yep." 

"Did you shower before I got here?" asks Ryan, pulling back so he's not talking against Jeremy's bottom lip. 

"Yep. Got ready, just in case." 

"Damn," he says, "you're not even embarrassed about it, are you?" 

"Hell no. We both knew where we'd end up," says Jeremy. "Speaking of... Let's not fuck on the couch. It's not that comfortable, I'll be honest." 

" _God_ ," Ryan breathes, and lets himself be pulled through into Jeremy's bedroom. There's a few piles of laundry here and there, but it hardly matters when they're gonna add to it in a few short minutes. When he stares at Jeremy, in the midst of the room he's invited Ryan to be safe in tonight, he's seized by a burst of sad possessiveness so strong it almost bowls him over. He swears under his breath and moves closer – Jeremy accepts him like he knew his every move – and the kisses that follow are grabbing, desperate, and lunging for any semblance of touch they can garner. 

"Why is it so hard," he whispers, "to tell you why I'm here?" 

"Because we're both so fuckin' scared about it, you asshole," Jeremy whispers back, and kisses him again. 

Shirts are fumbled with and discarded. Ryan has Jeremy's belt off and is working on the button of his jeans, before the man pushes him off: "this is about  _you_ ," he says, and gives him a gentle shove onto the bed. 

"It's about us," Ryan protests. 

"With a focus on  _you_ , tonight. Please, Ryan, let me do this for you." 

"Okay," he nods, and Jeremy mouths at the skin under his ear, tugging the zipper down. "Yeah. Okay." 

"Fuck," Jeremy says eloquently, and slides off Ryan's pants.  _"Fuck._ You're so attractive. I hate this." 

Ryan, kicking his way out of the lingering denim, attacks Jeremy's mouth and pushes him back against the pillows. He needs this more than he thought he did – the closeness of another person, the smoothing of warm skin against skin – and he needed Jeremy, too. He needed Jeremy about as much as he'd anticipated he would. Which is a lot. 

He tells him so. 

"Fuck, Jere," he says, only sounding slightly broken as they rock against one another. "I needed this, I need you  _so_ bad--" 

And Jeremy's murmuring against his skin, finally shucking his jeans and pulling at both of their boxers. It's all reassurances like  _it's okay, it's alright, I'm here with you_ , and confessions like  _I need you, too_ _._ There's an interesting instruction thrown into the mix which Ryan's more than happy to carry out ( _lube, condoms, bedside drawer,_ _please_ ) and, if he's being honest, he definitely whimpers a little bit when Jeremy slicks both of them up.

"Feels nicer like this," Jeremy gasps, from under him. Ryan twitches in the man's grip when he grasps both of them. 

"So when you said 'got ready' in the shower," he begins. 

"Yeah?" 

"Still wanna?" 

"Are you hearing yourself talk? I'm jerking us off and I'm underneath you," Jeremy points out. "For the love of  _God_ , Haywood,  _fuck me_." 

Ryan doesn't need to be told twice. He spreads lube over the digits on his dominant hand, and bites down on Jeremy's lip when he starts to finger him. Jeremy takes the first one easy – damn, he wasn't kidding about 'getting ready' - and whines  _beautifully_ when a second enters him. Ryan makes a scissoring motion and opens him up, slowly but surely, and shifts his weight to his knees so he can touch Jeremy's stomach. 

"Look at you," he says. 

"Busy," Jeremy gasps, and arches his back when Ryan curls inside him. 

His free hand wanders to Jeremy's pectoral muscles, which tense as his palm runs over them; he rubs over a nipple with the pad of his thumb and watches the man squirm. 

"Ryan--" 

"Yeah, I know," he murmurs, making sure the condom's on properly. "I'm just..." 

"Just what?" 

He feels dumb for saying it when Jeremy's obviously going for a playful tone: "I just wanna do this right," he confesses. 

Jeremy's expression softens. "Come here," he says again, reaching up to guide Ryan's face over to his own, and pulling him back down into a vertical position, "come here, you ridiculous,  _sweet_ guy." 

It's easier to position himself between Jeremy's legs from down here. Ryan briefly struggles – pumping lube into his palm with one hand, whilst being  _incredibly_ distracted by his hot co-worker's making out and rutting against him, is not as easy as he anticipated – and he collapses into laughter in the crook of Jeremy's neck. 

 _"Jeremy, let go of me--_ _"_  

"Noooooo--" 

And Ryan shuts him up by jamming a hand between them and teasing the base of Jeremy's dick until he lets go. "Yes," he bites back,  _"yes."_  

"I'm supposed to be taking care of  _you_ , you cheater," Jeremy whines. 

"You are," Ryan replies, and makes sure they're both properly slicked up before he carefully starts to press in. 

Oh, god, he forgot how torturous topping was. It's  _so hard_  to enter someone slowly when it feels this good, and Jeremy feels really fucking good, so good that he has to screw his eyes shut so he remembers every noise and every hitched breath. He doesn't bottom out; he stops, and opens his eyes, and finds hazel ones staring back at him.

"Hey," Jeremy whispers. 

"Hey yourself. You okay?" 

"More than okay. Oh,  _fuck_ , please move." 

"How could I say no?" 

"You talk too much," Jeremy grumbles, except his head falls back onto the pillows when Ryan slides out of him again. " _Je_ -sus  _Christ--_ " 

"I've wanted this for –  _ah_ –  _so_ long, Jeremy," Ryan hisses into the man's collarbone, "I didn't think we could be--" 

Jeremy keens and murmurs right back into Ryan's temple, his breathing hot and shallow against his ear. "'Course we can. I want you.  _I want you._ " 

And this must be how Jeremy takes care of him, or takes care of  _anyone_ , for that matter. He makes them feel wanted. He makes them feel included socially, and he makes them feel like they matter emotionally, and he makes Ryan feel wanted, physically, and it's so fucking good. 

"You've got me," he says. It comes out strained; they're moving faster now. He shifts a hand from the bedspread to Jeremy's bicep and it slides, damp with beads of sweat. Jeremy really has got him, too – he's got one hand braced on a shoulder blade, his fingers splayed out in an effort to grab, and the other is trying to regain traction down Ryan's side. It scrabbles from ribcage to hipbone, and he almost sees Jeremy get the idea, because no sooner have the man's eyelashes fluttered but there's a hand on his ass. And it's urging him to move harder. 

"If you—I won't--" 

"Yeah, go on," Jeremy encourages breathily, "we've got all weekend for more--" 

But it still feels impolite to cum first, so he tries to hit the spot inside that makes Jeremy's voice filter out in staccato noises, and reaches his hand inbetween them again. As soon as he grips Jeremy's cock, he feels the hands on his ass and back flex involuntarily. The man's eyes shoot open in shock, before he closes them so tightly again that his teeth grit together, and,  _fuck,_ Ryan loves the feel of someone's whole body tensing up, whether it's above him or below him, just as they're about to cum. The image of Jeremy doing this whilst getting sucked off flits across his mind, and he almost loses it there and then. Hell, Jeremy's toppled over the edge with a surprisingly loud and very attractive moan, so Ryan mouths at his jaw, and keeps fucking him through the shocks of tightening muscle and shivering limbs. When he follows, holding fast onto the very grab-able skin at Jeremy's waist, he bites down on the man's shoulder and freezes. Jeremy moves both of his hands to Ryan's ass and  _pulls,_ letting him know wordlessly that it's okay to go that deep, and his arms shake with the effort of not falling as he blissfully enjoys his dick still twitching inside. 

He knows he's got to pull out and tie off the condom before it gets too difficult, but he's just  _so lazy_. "I don't wanna move," he moans into Jeremy's shoulder. " _Ughhhghhh_." 

"I know, man, but... two seconds of effort and we can sleep." Jeremy paws at Ryan's arms pathetically: "c'mon, get off, you're lying in my cum." 

"Your pillow talk always this gross?" 

"Yep," Jeremy manages to get out, as Ryan shifts and tries to do this carefully. 

"Sensitive?" 

"Yeah. Feels good, though." 

"Felt  _really_  good," Ryan agrees, tying off the condom; he's about to test whether or not his legs can support him, but Jeremy holds out a trash can from beside the bed, and sits up anyway. 

"Where're ya goin'?" 

"Towel. Cleanup." 

"...Huh." 

"Taking care of you," Jeremy repeats, now clad in boxers and returning with a hand towel, "I'm committing to it." 

He sits heavily on the edge of the bed and wipes the rest of himself down; even when the man's trying to avoid getting too many water-based lube stains on the bedsheets, Ryan wants to stare up adoringly at him. 

"What?" 

"What's _what_?" he says innocently.

"I don't know. You lying there like that Sleeping Ariadne statue." 

"...I don't know what that is." 

"I'll show you in the morning," Jeremy grins, throwing the towel at Ryan so he can clean his legs. He reaches up to turn the lights off and climbs under the covers with him.  

Ryan clings. 

"Good day for it," Jeremy says absent-mindedly, snaking an arm around Ryan's neck and kissing the top of his hair. 

"Is it?" 

"Well, I guess you saw my tweet about yesterday. Vesuvius Day." 

"I really am sorry about that--" 

"Oh, no, don't be. It's not your fault," Jeremy murmurs. "But today? That's the one that wins. It's Kiss and Make Up Day." 

"It is?" 

"Yeah, I was gonna talk to you today. I definitely wanted to do the second bit." 

"I think we went above and beyond," Ryan mumbles, and he feels Jeremy's chest shake with laughter under his hands. 

"Hey, we'll sort out whatever tomorrow. We got this. Let's just have a day of making everything easier." 

"That sounds nice," is the last thing Ryan manages to say, before the steady rhythm of Jeremy's breathing, and the feeling of fingers running through his hair, finally sends him into a calm and uninterrupted sleep. They could sort it out tomorrow. It was still as true now as it was when he'd left the precinct; it could wait. 

It could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a good idea to listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rF4rCHK_878) at some point, too.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More NSFW stuff ahead. Sorry it's a day late!

**August 26th** **\- Saturday**  

 

The first thing Ryan does when he wakes up is check his messages. There's four or five from Mel ( _we're at the hotel, the kids say goodnight, we've just woken up and we're on our way again!_ ), and one from his brother. 

 

 **Charlie Haywood: Heard about what happened. Call me when you can. Let me know if I can help. X**  

 

"Aw, that's sweet." 

Ryan turns over to find Jeremy, lying on his side and peering over his shoulder. He's wearing a smirk, and those boxers, and little else. 

"Didn't anyone ever teach you it's rude to read other people's texts?" 

"Sure they did. Doesn't mean I listened." 

"Well, someone's in an argumentative mood this morning," Ryan says, and smiles when he leans over to kiss him. 

"Look," says Jeremy, muffled against his lips, "I've been real fuckin' patient, waiting for you to wake up. I went to the restroom. Checked for breakfast stuff. I don't have anything, by the way, if you want food we're gonna have to go out and get--" 

Ryan flips him over. 

"Or, y'know," he continues. "You could pin me down, and we can do whatever. It's all cool with me." 

"You're  _really_  vague," Ryan says, huffing with laughter. He shifts, so that his thigh presses down between Jeremy's legs, and watches the man suppress a noise. 

"I hate you. I hate what you do to me." 

"Same to you," he retorts, because just being allowed to rake his eyes down Jeremy's body is getting him hard. "God, you're hot. I really want you to fuck me sometime." 

Jeremy lets his eyes flicker shut. "You think about that a lot?" 

"Surprisingly, no," Ryan says honestly, and runs his hands up the layer of hair on Jeremy's middle, "mostly I think about how you're so nice, and that I wanna spend time with you. But when you're here in front of me like this I can't  _help_  but think about sucking your dick." 

"That sounds like a nice way to spend time together," Jeremy agrees, and rummages blindly in the bedside drawer for a condom. 

Ryan crawls down the mattress, ready to roll it on, as Jeremy kicks off his boxers for the second time in under twelve hours: "is this  _flavoured_?" 

"You want a different one?" 

"No, this is great," he says. "I haven't tried these in forever. There was one guy I used to hook up with in college where we wanted to use as many different varieties as we could." 

Jeremy tenses; whether it's from the attention Ryan's paying to the base of his dick, moving a loose fist up and down the shaft to make the condom application easier, or whether it's from the thought of Ryan sucking someone else off, he doesn't know. 

"Fuck--" 

"What?" 

"You," Jeremy says, "and  _college_  you, and anything to do with your mouth and you giving blowjobs--" 

"What can I say? I like oral," says Ryan innocently, and wraps his lips around the head of Jeremy's cock. Immediately, he moves  _with_  his hips instead of forwards, because it'd be pretty embarrassing to choke almost instantly. The thought of strawberry-flavoured lube going up his nose isn't the most appealing idea first thing in the morning. 

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jeremy whines, as Ryan begins to move a little more adventurously, "you're  _amazing_. God, that feels so good. I'm—I'm taking you out to breakfast, holy fuck. I'm gonna romance you  _so_ hard, Haywood--" 

And Ryan pulls off to grin at him. 

"Thought I talked too much?" 

"You do. Didn't say I didn't like it," Jeremy says. "Also never said I wouldn't join in." 

Ryan sits up and swings his feet off the side of the bed. "Put your feet on the floor," he suggests, "I just thought of something that you might like." 

He gets a raised eyebrow, but Jeremy complies, and Ryan settles himself between his legs again, only this time he's kneeling on the carpet. 

"Watch me," he says. 

"Oh,  _god--_ " 

He takes Jeremy's dick in one hand, steadying himself on the man's thigh with the other, and looks up through his eyelashes: "if I'm gonna get off from getting you off," he says, "then you might as well be able to see me do it." 

Jeremy exhales heavily, and bites down, hard, on his bottom lip – Ryan takes him into his mouth again and starts jerking himself off. 

"Oh my  _god_. I can't believe you're doing this." 

Ryan hums in agreement. He's out of practice, but the multitasking comes back to him soon enough, and in a few short minutes he's breathing heavily through his nose with exertion. He's  _really_  into this. He loves being able to look up at Jeremy's face and see his line of sight darting around frantically, and his mouth trying to spit out words, too distracted to conjure up anything more complex than  _fuck_  and  _ahhhh_ _, Ryan_. He loves being able to palm at himself, setting off a chain reaction of static rushes and twitching limbs and simultaneous moans. 

And he fucking loves how Jeremy's got him by the back of his jaw. Not forcing. Not even guiding. It's almost like he just needs to know he's still there. 

Ryan leans into his touch as he cums over himself. He must look filthy, leaking jizz into his happy trail just from giving a blowjob, but Jeremy seems to like it: 

"Oh,  _shit_ ," he grits out, "Ryan, you look so fucking good right now, oh m--" 

He descends into a string of incomprehensible vowel sounds, and Ryan lazily catches more hints of strawberry on his tongue as he finishes the job. 

Giving oral is great. Giving oral to Jeremy is  _fantastic_. 

"I haven't done that position in forever," Ryan smiles. He grabs the towel from yesterday and wipes himself down, whilst Jeremy throws away the condom, and then he's being dragged back into bed. "Was... Was that okay?" 

 _"Ryan_. Dude. That was ten times 'okay' and then some," Jeremy says, his chest still heaving. 

Neither of them have any clothes on, so Ryan reaches down and grabs the bedsheets to throw over themselves. It's almost too warm for it, but it's hard to notice the little things, like temperature, when a hot man is kissing you. 

"You taste like strawberry." 

"I could even taste like real strawberry," Ryan says daringly, "if we go and grab waffles for breakfast." 

"You are a  _menace_. A dessert-loving menace. Okay, we'll go for breakfast in a bit. Waffles, pancakes, who cares, as long as it's got ice cream? My sugar intake is  _entirely_ on your head--" 

"Shut up and take me to the park, Dooley," he grins, and kisses him again. Just because he can. 

They take Jeremy's car and go to the park a few blocks from his apartment – it's early, or still early enough that people are going on their morning jogs. Ryan lets Jeremy buy them waffles from a breakfast stand with minimal arguing, and when they walk through the park, eating as they go, he finds something new and interesting at every turn.  

Jeremy stabs a raspberry and bites it off the little disposable fork. 

"What are you thinking about?" 

"Oh, just," Ryan begins, trying not to sound too dumb, "I don't know, it feels like I'm allowed to notice the cool things around me again." 

"Like what?" 

"The strawberries, the real ones, are good. And the whipped cream is good," he says, staring down at their breakfast, "and I can smell fried onions. And it's basically the crack of Satan's ass for a Sunday, so the sun feels low, and everyone's walking their dogs." 

"It's fitting," Jeremy nods. He's slightly muffled, through a brave bite of waffle. "National Dog Day." 

"Is it really?" 

"Yup." 

"Damn. I wish I still had a dog." 

"What happened to it?" 

"Died, just before Milo was born," he says casually, "he was a good dog." 

"Aw, I'm sorry, Ry." 

"It's okay. All dogs are good dogs, really." 

They pick a bench where they can easily spot the dogs trotting by, but without the danger that could be posed to their food, and watch the world go by. 

"What's your plan now?" Jeremy asks. He clearly means to breach the heavier subjects. 

"Well, until yesterday we had joint legal  _and_ physical custody of them, but I don't know if I'll automatically get sole custody. I hope so. I  _should_. The law's weird and complicated, though." 

"Visitation?" 

"Hell, no," he says instantly. "Not until they're sixteen, at least. Then they can choose for themselves if they wanna see her. I don't know how long she could get for abduction." 

"Hey, remember what I said," Jeremy says, scraping whipped cream from his plastic bowl. "When you told me about sole custody. Time to lawyer up, Ryan, you've got time and you can do this--" 

 _"We've_  got time. _"_  

"Huh?" 

Ryan takes a deep breath. 

"I really like you, Jeremy, and that's putting it mildly. You've already done so much for me, and you've made it clear you're sticking with it," he smiles, "so  _we've_  got time. You've known my kids since they were four and two. You're not my ex-wife's new boyfriend, you're our  _friend_." 

"I love you," Jeremy blurts out. 

Ryan stares at him. 

"Ah, fuck, I should have saved that. For a better time. Not when—argh--" 

He grabs Jeremy's hand. 

 

"Perfect timing," he says. "I love you too." 

And Ryan's always admired the beauty of that phrase – the reciprocation, the unsaid layers beneath the surface.  _I love you_ _too_  can easily mean  _stop freaking out_ , or  _I'm glad I'm sitting here with you watching dogs and dog owners walk on by._ It can even mean  _you and I work so well together._  

Sometimes, it can be as simple as the sentiment of  _together_. 

"I've got permission to pick up some of Lillian and Milo's stuff from her house tomorrow. I... Would you come with me?" 

And Jeremy is smiling so hard at him, he could almost be doing an impression of the Cheshire Cat. 

"Anything for you, Ry. Of  _course_  I'll come with."


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh I'm getting behind. So sorry. I'll try to have the 28th and 29th up sometime in the next 24 hours.

**August 27th** **\- Sunday**  

 

Ryan takes Jeremy back to his house on Sunday morning, so that he can grab some fresh clothes and empty his car of all the legal documents. He makes a mental note to go shopping during the week. Though he's never quite gotten used to living alone for extended periods, and still buys a little too much food, it might be a wise move to pick up some groceries. 

"Are you  _sure_ you wanna come?" he asks, for the thousandth time that morning. 

"Ryan, I've  _told_ you, I wanna come," Jeremy says, not unkindly, "I'm coming along so I can be with you. Okay?" 

"Sorry," Ryan says. He can't help but be embarrassed. "I'm just... Not used to be able to ask. It used to be all, 'you make a big deal out of everything', or, 'you're too sensitive'--" 

Jeremy tosses him the car keys. "I know you think I'm gonna do it," he says, smiling, "but I'm not. I swear, Ry. If something's important to you, then it's important, period." 

"You'd tell me, though, if I was being unreasonable? Like... Unresponsive? Absent?" 

Jeremy, who was on course to climb into the passenger seat, stops and stares at him with a fierce, fierce look. "You know," he says, "the tragedy of this is that she's made you feel like these were  _your_  traits, when they weren't." 

And he doesn't elaborate any further; not because he won't, but because he doesn't have to. The sentence holds all the answers. 

Jeremy doesn't hold his hand or touch his leg on the way over, and he doesn't do anything even remotely similar, but what he  _does_  do is turn up the radio. Ryan catches him mouthing the words to 'I Gotta Feeling' - it's the kind of song that someone in the office would sing the first line to, and the others would be obligated to provide the  _'_ _oooo_ _'_ noises afterwards. 

He only starts to get nervous when they're two blocks from her house. By the time they pull into the drive, at four PM sharp, Ryan's shaking slightly. 

Jeremy follows close behind as they wander up the porch. 

"I'm right here, man. Who cares if she's on bail?" he whispers. "She can either do as the court says, or make things worse for herself." 

Ryan knocks on the door. 

"I've got your back, Battle Buddy," Jeremy adds, slapping Ryan's shoulder in solidarity. 

Jesse cracks open the door. 

Ryan holds up his court order: "hey," he says carefully, "I'm here for the kids' essentials. Straight in, straight out--" 

"I'll keep Nat in the kitchen," he says quietly, and opens the door fully so they can go upstairs. 

"Poor guy," Jeremy mutters, as they walk through the upstairs hall to Lillian's bedroom. "He seems decent, I bet he didn't expect to be caught up in any of this." 

"Yeah, well... When I was first with her, she wasn't like that. She's never been anything else to him," Ryan says, and turns the handle. "Maybe he should have known better." 

Neither of them really know how to follow that up with a response; Ryan digs out Lilly's other rucksack from her wardrobe, and sets about piling her clothes in. He decides against removing her artwork from the walls. (That almost seems too petty.) When he looks over his shoulder, he sees Jeremy picking out books from the shelf, and watches him turn them over to read the blurb. Eventually, when he decides to just sweep them all into the duffel bag he'd brought up, he notices Ryan staring at him. 

"What?" 

He wants to say _thank you_ , but he doesn't. "Good choice," he murmurs instead. 

Milo's room is next. Again, Ryan goes for the clothes and shoes whilst Jeremy attacks the other things: the crayons; a small box of Lego under the bed; a nightlight Ryan knows he doesn't need when he's at his dad's house.

"I'm just gonna put these in the car," Jeremy tells him, as Ryan finishes up with the coat hangers. "I'll be right back." 

He doesn't think anything of it until he finishes the task and Jeremy still hasn't reappeared. It's only when he starts to traipse down the stairs that he overhears what's happening in the kitchen. 

"--Yeah, because they  _deserve_ holidays. Didn't you ever take them on day trips or get them stuff, just 'cos you could?" 

He hears Natalie laugh mirthlessly. Of course she didn't, Ryan thinks, trying to remember an occasion; it was as though she'd never really bonded with her kids, especially Milo, once they'd come into the world. If there was no practicality to it – if Nat didn't like it – then what was the point of the activity or interest? 

He wishes she'd listened to him, when he'd asked her to see someone. 

(He wishes she'd listened when he'd asked if  _he_  could see someone.) 

But she hadn't listened, and she'd never sought help, and now it was too late. It wasn't a question of raising children, to her. It was a question of  _having_  children, with strict emphasis on the possessive. And she'd lost all of them. 

"Mom's aren't supposed to be cold like that," Jeremy says. There's something in his voice which tells the world he doesn't want to attack her: "moms are supposed to make their kids' favourite foods, and take them places to have fun, and let them figure out what they're enthusiastic about. And spouses are supposed to  _listen_  to each other. You're supposed to be  _equals_." 

"Why would I want to be equals with someone like Ryan? He doesn't care." 

"Ryan's the best dad, the nicest person I've ever met, and one of the most amazing friends I've ever had," Jeremy says quietly. "The world would be an incredible place if everyone wanted to be equals with a man like Ryan Haywood." 

Ryan decides to walk down the stairs very noisily at this point, and picks up the last of the conversation as he walks past the kitchen door: 

"Think about what I said, Natalie.  _Please_. If not for his sake, or your kids' sake, then for  _yourself_." 

Jeremy exits the kitchen, and lets the door click shut behind him; Ryan never sees Natalie's face. He lets Jeremy take one of the bags of clothes from him, and they walk out to the car, and leave without a word. It's ten minutes down the highway until Ryan's curiosity reaches its breaking point. 

"What did you talk about?" 

"I told her she needed to get some help," Jeremy says instantly. "And when she said I was just swooping in, and giving you nice things, I told her I was paying back what you've done for me." 

Ryan is so shocked that he forgets to use his blinker when he crosses lanes. It's a good job there's not much traffic today. 

"What  _I've_ done for  _you_?" 

"You make me laugh," he says, simply, "your kids are sweet and polite, and you're so much fun, and you always teach me new things. I never know what's going to be on your mind until I'm halfway through the work day, and... I don't know. I wanted to give something back to you." 

"Could you not have waited until we were back at mine to tell me this?" Ryan whines. "I can't make out with you when I'm driving!" 

"You fuckin' dork, oh my god," Jeremy says, "how long is the drive?" 

The drive is thirty minutes more. (The promise of making out once they're back at Ryan's is kept.) 

Mel texts him before they take off to tell him they've booked a taxi to the house, which is incredibly convenient for the both of them – Ryan can't fit six people in his car, and he really doesn't want Jeremy to leave. When the kids arrive, sleepy and hungry, it's just forty minutes and a meal away before they head to bed. 

"Sorry about the spaghetti and meatballs, Mel," Ryan tells her, once the pyjama-clad terrors have worn themselves out talking about their grandparents' house. "I don't think they could stomach anything more complicated." 

"That's okay," she grins, "thanks for feeding me. I gotta go check into my hotel soon, but... I might see you after my business trip?" 

The three adults are lounging in the front room, flicking through TV channels and taling about the terrible traffic; Jeremy's never met Mel before today, not in person, but he seems like he's a natural at conversing with her. 

"Sure thing, you know you're always welcome," Ryan says, "just let us know and we'll be around. You can stay here any time you like." 

" _We_?" asks Mel, raising an eyebrow. 

Ryan feels his face flush. 

"I see," she grins, taking a step towards the door, "well, I kinda called it, but it's still cute. Don't forget to tell Mom, bro." 

Mel leaves as quickly as she'd come, accepting a meal and kindness and small talk and promising twice as much back when she next had the time. 

"...I like your sister," Jeremy says, a few minutes after she'd waltzed out of the door. 

"Me too," Ryan decides. "Hey, Jeremy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I know it's like, eight PM, but we could watch a movie or something. If you wanted," he shrugs. "We've got the time, and... You could, uh, stay over, if you wanted." 

"Ryan," Jeremy smiles, from across the couch. "I would  _love_  that." 

They watch Ghostbusters – the original, mind you, because Ryan can't show him the reboot until he's sure he gets all the references in it. "You know," he says, "we could have popcorn and talk about whether Sigourney or Bill is the more attractive." 

"You  _know_  they're both good in this, don't do it," Jeremy warns playfully. "My bisexual ass can't choose between them, and neither can yours." 

"I don't want either," Ryan tells him, as honestly as he can, and pulls at Jeremy's shoulders until the man's back is flush against his chest. "Hey, was there a holiday today, by the way? I feel like I messed all that up with my crap again. Sorry, Jere." 

"We're doing it now," Jeremy says, and though Ryan can't see his face, he can hear him speaking through a smile. 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yup. It's Just Because Day. So I'm watching a film with my favourite guy, just 'cos I can." 

Ryan curls his arm tighter around him, moving from his shoulders to around his middle. "That's fucking  _cute_." 

"Nicer than the other one," Jeremy murmurs, and curls into Ryan's side. 

"What's the other one?" 

"Global Forgiveness Day," he says, "and I know we already had a National one this month, but damn, your ex-wife needs the whole world's worth, I think." 

Ryan thinks back to where he was on Friday – his kids missing, the police to deal with, and a whole world of chaos – and take s a moment to appreciate that Lillian and Milo are asleep upstairs, his sister's in-state, and Jeremy's practically curled up in his lap. 

He presses a kiss into the man's hair, where the colour meets the natural hue. On screen, the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man begins to destroy New York City, and Ryan thinks  _hell, why the fuck not._


	29. Chapter 29

**August 28th** **\- Monday**  

 

When Jeremy and Ryan come into work together the next day (fresh from dropping the kids off at school – Ryan has to hand in the court order forms stating no-one but him and the nanny can take his kids out now, just in case), Michael practically sniffs the air. They're barely two steps into the office, but he narrows his eyes and looks up at the ceiling, as though he's trying to remember something important. 

"Something's up," he says accusingly. 

"Something's been up for  _months_ , boi," Gavin says, without looking up from his screen, "you'll have to be more specific." 

"With Ryan and Lil J. Are you two fucking yet?" 

Ryan and Jeremy turn to each other, make wiggly, nonchalant hand gestures and  _ehhhhh_  noises, and sit at their desks. 

"Does that mean  _yes_?" 

"I don't fuckin'  _know_  what that means, Gavin." 

"He hasn't even taken me to dinner yet," Jeremy grins, "so I don't know if you could call us anything more than 'a little bit  _involved'_ \--" 

"Hey, we went to breakfast! And I cooked for you yesterday, oh my god, Jeremy." 

"Maybe I want dinner," he says defiantly, sticking his chin in the air, "like, shirt and tie dinner. Up your game, Haywood, come be fancy with me." 

"You're  _nauseating_ ," decides Gavin. 

The conversation on the other side of the room devolves into whether or not Ryan and Jeremy are puke-worthy or not; whilst they're distracted, Geoff leans over and catches Ryan's eye. "Everything on Friday get sorted?" he murmurs. 

Ryan nods and gives him a thumbs up. 

"Good. Don't let anyone pull that kind of shit with your kids ever again," he warns, "ex-wife or not--" 

"Restraining order, full legal and physical custody application, waiting for prosecution," Ryan lists off. "She's not coming near Lilly and Milo without supervision for at  _least_ ten years." 

Geoff nods in return. He doesn't say anything, but he gives a rapid succession of pats to Ryan's arm before wheeling back to his desk fully. 

There's a little purple post-it note on Ryan's monitor, which must have been left over from Friday's AHWU. Instead of a message, or a smiley face, there's a simple heart drawn on in darker purple sharpie. Ryan puts it in the top drawer of his desk, with the rest of them. He knows what they mean, now. 

 

 **Jeremy Dooley: I** **gotta** **go home to do some work tonight, but**  

 **Jeremy Dooley: Hang out tomorrow? Make some** **food or something?**  

 

 **Ryan Haywood: That sounds great.**  

 **Ryan Haywood: Make sure you're back home**   **for six, by the way**  

 

From his desk, Jeremy shoots him a concerned look. 

"Why? Ryan, I'm scared--  _Why--_?" 

"No reason," he laughs, "just make sure." 

On his drive home, he's certain that Jeremy's done something for him, too, but it's the first time Ryan's figured out where the holiday information's coming from. He had to make sure that he returned the favour. 

That's what you do on Valentine's Day, after all. 

...Okay, so technically it's not Western Valentine's Day. Obviously that takes place in February. But it  _is_  Chinese Valentine's Day today, so Ryan quickly went onto Amazon Pantry and sent Jeremy the only candy he knows the man will definitely eat. 

 

 **Jeremy Dooley: RYAN**  

 **Jeremy Dooley: FUCK**  

 **Jeremy Dooley: You got**   **Spree??? The chewy kind, too?????**  

 **Jeremy Dooley:**   **Thanks** **so much man!!!!!!! Fuck!!!!**  

 **Jeremy Dooley: Clearly you know what's going on so you'd better turn on the TV... Let me know what you think when you notice it**  

 

His first thought is  _oh, no, notice_ _what_ _?_

His second thought is  _wow, the pictures around the TV look cleaner than usual._  

And that's when he spots it – a brand new frame, blending in seamlessly with the other family photos around it. The photo inside is a digital portrait of Ryan's profile. He's got his baseball cap on backwards, and a bit of scruff, and there might be too much of a spark in his eyes, but then again, that might just be what Jeremy sees. It could be lifted from life. The portrait could be laughing at something Jack had said in the office. 

It's also got tiny fingerprints all over the glass. 

"Milo," he calls. "Do you know anything about the new photo in the living room?" 

"Noooooo," lies his son, calling back from upstairs, "but if it was put there yesterday, then you should tell Jerem— _um,_ I mean, you should get a picture for me, too." 

"Will do, buddy," Ryan snorts, and opens his messaging app. 

 

**Ryan Haywood: <3**


	30. Chapter 30

**August 29th**   **–**   **Tuesday**  

 

"So," says Jeremy, and shuffled closer to him, "I thought we could make those burger patties together, or something. Did you take that cookbook back to the library?" 

"Yeah, a million years ago." 

It's cooler out back, these days, than it was when they shared watermelon here at the beginning of the month. It feels like a lifetime away. 

"I remember how to make them, though," he adds. "It wasn't too difficult. Tonight?" 

"Tonight," Jeremy nods, his eyes crinkling with a huge smile. He looks like Ryan just said he'd bought him a palace. 

Ryan goes home at five, as per usual, and lets the nanny go home. She's a sweet girl in her twenties, and very timid, but Ryan has zero doubts in his mind that she'll unleash the wrath of God themself if Natalie so much as drives past his house. He manages to ask Lillian and Milo about their days at school, get their hands washed and their aprons on, and run through their plans for the evening, and then Jeremy's at his door with a whole bunch of ingredients and a wicked little light in his eyes. 

"Lilly J!" Milo shrieks, almost crashing into Ryan's legs in his enthusiasm. 

"Hey, kid. How are you with spicy food?" 

"I like spicy food," he says, nodding vigorously. "Lillian's okay with it, but not  _too_  spicy." 

"Alright," Jeremy claps, "we'll take it easy on the hot sauce for her plate, then, right?" 

Ryan stands back to let him in wordlessly. He feels shy again, at times like these, when a moment is unfolding right before his eyes that proves the weightlessness in his chest isn't some coincidence. 

He really loves him. 

As Jeremy passes by in the corridor, he looks up at Ryan, and it's that one second of catching the mischief in his expression that makes Ry cup his jaw and kiss him with a closed mouth. 

He pulls back. 

Jeremy looks dazed. 

 _Whoops_ , his son is still standing there. 

(And the front door is still wide open, too, holy  _fuck_.) 

Ryan's expecting an  _ew_  or a  _gross_  comment. He's even expecting a million questions about him and Jeremy, and their relationship, and what it means regarding Dad and Mom and everything else. To his immense surprise, however, the situation is entirely avoided; Milo honest-to-god  _rolls his eyes_ , and promptly runs back into the kitchen to rejoin his sister. 

"I don't know where he learned that," Ryan protests, over Jeremy's laughter. "I really don't." 

"It's okay, buddy," Jeremy wheezes. "I really don't... Wow, your two are the  _greatest?_  They're amazing kids." 

Ryan takes one of the grocery bags and leads him through into the kitchen. "Come on, Jere, they've been super impatient to hear what the day is today." 

 _"Yeah_ , Lilly J! Tell us the day!" yells Lillian. 

Jeremy bursts in and holds a bag of potatoes aloft. "It's 'More Herbs, Less Salt Day'!" he calls, "and we're gonna make those burgers your dad's really good at, and some double cooked fries with seasoning. We've got all  _sorts_ of flavours. We've got some  _super nice ketchup_. We've got  _sriracha_ \- that's the spicy one, Milo – and we've got a heckuva lot of work to do--" 

"You and your pep talks," snickers Ryan, cutting through the jubilant cheers coming from his children. 

"What? They're fun. Gets people excited." 

"Are you staying to eat with us, Lil J?" asks Milo. 

"Yeah, 'course he is." 

"Is Jeremy staying to drop us at school tomorrow, too?" asks Lillian hopefully, and Jeremy shoots Ryan a very startled look. 

Ryan tips his chin up discreetly. He can't remember the last time Lillian used Jeremy's actual name, instead of their nickname routine, which probably signifies she's alluding to Serious Business. 

That kid is too smart for her own good. 

"Uh," says Jeremy, turning pink, "yeah, we can do that." 

Ryan laughs, and starts rummaging in his kitchen drawers for a potato peeler. Though he sometimes doubts if he's entirely whole or unbroken, at least he knows that he's bringing up some  _kickass_ children, and man, that's gotta count for something. 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that my updating fell apart towards the end. I'll do my best to deliver ASAP!

**August 30th** **\- Wednesday**  

 

Ryan wakes up, rolls over  _very_  quietly, and herds his children into the bathroom so they can get washed and dressed. It still seems a bit early for Jeremy to have woken up too, so he really doesn't want to disturb him just yet. 

"I know you're not big on coffee," he calls, when Jeremy finally joins them in the kitchen – he's fully dressed, the fiend - "but there's OJ and water and anything you want." 

"Are you cooking  _bacon?_ " 

"Bacon, eggs, toasted bagels. I thought it might be nice." 

"It is nice," says Lillian, with her mouth full. 

"Watch it, Lils. Don't choke." 

Jeremy sidles up to him in front of the stove, and doesn't-quite lean in far enough for them to touch. "Have you eaten?" 

"Nope." 

"Let me make yours, and I can have mine whilst you're getting dressed." 

 _"Jeremy--"_  

"I'm serious, dude. C'mon, teamwork." 

Ryan sighs, and concedes, and hands him the spatula. 

The drive into the kids' school is mostly uneventful, except for the fact that Jeremy is still pleasantly startled by their loud singing. At work, they hardly interact – Ryan has to go on set for The Know, and Jeremy's stuck in the office, but-- 

 

 **Ryan Haywood: Hope your day's been okay.**  

 

\--he does find the time to text him at lunchtime. 

Jeremy promises he'll be over again that evening, albeit  _only_  for the evening, and that he'll be bringing 'holiday supplies'. This probably means S'mores again, if the holiday Ryan looked up the other day is anything to go by, so he makes sure he's still got graham crackers in his cupboards, and feeds his kids something proper before possibly burning down his back yard. 

He's just finished giving his kids the fire safety talk when Jeremy wanders through the gate. 

"Hey, Lil J!" Milo says, waving, "we're gonna light a bonfire!" 

Jeremy feigns surprise. "Oh, are you? That's so weird, 'cos I brought some food we can toast..." 

And he pulls out a sack of the most enormous marshmallows Ryan's ever seen in his life. 

 _"Jeremy_ _!_  I thought we were making S'mores?!" 

"Well," Jeremy smiles, "we already had S'mores Day. It's actually National Marshmallow Toasting Day, which I guess is pretty similar, but we can make S'mores too. There's a lot of variety here." 

"Come and help me light the fire, you goddamn idiot." 

It's a welcoming beacon in the fading light of late August. The nights aren't quite as long as before. Ryan leaves Jeremy cleaning off the skewers properly, showing Lillian and Milo how to stab marshmallows in the most efficient way, and grabs the graham crackers and chocolate from the cupboard. 

He has a serious, yet fairly short crisis between the opening and closing of the cupboard doors. 

He's fairly sure Jeremy's on board for the whole package. But if he's not – if it's just Ryan, or just the idea of kids – then it's not going to work out. He can't bring someone into his children's lives and then take them straight back out again, because it isn't fair. 

(It's too much for him to wrap his head around without staring into an open fire, so he trudges outside again.) 

"...Are you gonna be our new dad, Lilly J?" 

In the open doorframe leading out to the yard, Ryan freezes. Silhouetted by the miniature bonfire, their profiles flickering and dancing in the low light, Jeremy and his children are sat on the floor with marshmallows on sticks in hand. 

Jeremy chuckles. (Whether he’s apprehensive or not, Ryan can’t tell.) "You’ve already got a great dad. You don’t need me to be one when you have a good one already!" 

"But you’ve been our friend for  _sooooo_ _looong_ ," Milo says, stretching his arms out wide, "we don't mind!" 

"Well," Jeremy says, and tilts his head thoughtfully, "I'm sticking around. That's for sure. I don't know what that makes me." 

Ryan just about has an anxiety attack, he's so overwhelmed. 

It's something about how Jeremy can so easily discuss difficult things with kids; he's never quite been able to broach the hard subjects like that with  _anyone_ , let alone sensitive children, and he's still trying to unlearn the bottling-up techniques he's picked up over the years. And yet there Jeremy is, chatting with two little ones who can't remember  _not_  knowing him, and he makes it look so easy. 

So he plays it cool. 

"Makes you my boyfriend," he says, climbing tentatively into their circle with the S'mores supplies. He passes his cell phone over to Lillian: "hey, Lils, it's your turn to pick music tonight. Wanna put something on?" 

Jeremy stares at him, as though Ryan brought down fire to give to humanity instead of just setting some twigs alight in a glorified trash can. Like he's more than what he really is. Which is ridiculous, of course – tonight, even Milo's conversing with Jeremy, and Milo's confident around  _maybe_ three people, tops. 

"You okay?" Ryan laughs. 

Jeremy grins. "...Yeah. I'm awesome. Have a marshmallow, Ry."


	32. Chapter 32

**August 31st** **\- Thursday**  

 

"Last day," Ryan says, taking a seat on one of the benches. 

"Eat Outside Day," Jeremy confirms, and throws a packet of chips at his face. "Oh, and Trail Mix Day. I've got some for later if we wanna snack during Theater Mode." 

 _"Trail Mix_ Day. Jesus Christ. Who comes up with these?" 

Jeremy tucks his legs under the bench and sits opposite him fighting with a tupperware lid to access his sandwiches. "Everybody loves something," he shrugs. "Might as well celebrate that." 

"Someone in August  _really_  loved their food." 

"Yeah, it got a bit repetitive towards the end, huh? I didn't think a lot of it through as much as I should have, probably, I'll be honest." 

"It was perfect," Ryan says honestly, looking up at him. 

"I mean, I know for a fact I screwed up a couple of 'em..." 

"Even Middle Child's Day," he lists, "even Vesuvius Day, and, you know what? Even that awful day where you told all the jokes and set the whole damn room off. Even that day. You did great. And you made everyone happy." 

"That's the goal," Jeremy says cheerfully, but he flushes a pleased red anyway. 

"So, National Days..." 

"Yeah?" 

"Well... They were  _days_. Did August have anything longer?" Ryan asks. 

Jeremy chews thoughtfully, and swallows. "Well, there was Admit You're Happy Month, I already told you about that one. Uh... Let's see. The four weeks were split into Simplify Your Life Week, Smile Week, Friendship Week, and Be Kind To Humankind Week? I think." 

"That's  _awesome_." 

"I know, right? There were even more than that. Some of them reminded me of you." 

"Like what?" 

Jeremy swallows again, heavily this time, to give Ryan his full attention. "Peach Month made me think of Georgia. And Family Fun Month wasn't one I expected to join in on, I'll be honest." 

His heart melts a little, but he covers it up by picking at the trail mix. "Go on," he smiles, crunching on some pretzels. 

"Don't laugh." 

"I make no promises." 

Jeremy mock-glares at him. "Okay, well... The big one was Romance Awareness Month. I didn't think you'd be into me, but I thought it was a good time to show you how much you meant to me? I don't know." He shrugs, sort of awkwardly: "I got tired of not giving you the attention you deserved. So I started flirting at you some more." 

"Hey, Jeremy," Ryan grins, and kicks him under the table with a soft sneaker. 

"Yeah, pal?" 

"It worked. I'm aware." 

"That's good," Jeremy grins, and only throws a couple of raisins at Ryan's head to cover up his embarrassment. 

"You got anything planned for September?" Ryan asks, brushing trail mix dust out of his hair and snorting. 

"Nahhhhh," says Jeremy. "Although it  _is_  Self Improvement Month." 

"Maybe you could learn to be a less annoying boyfriend." 

"Some things just can't be taught, Haywood," he replies gravely, "and besides, you've only had me for a week. You don't know half of what I'm capable of, with boyfriend abilities, or whatever." 

"I can't wait to find out," Ryan says. He wonders what they might get up to that weekend, but honestly? The possibilities are endless. They can do anything they want. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to come. Sorry for the wait. ♥


	33. Epilogue

**September 27th** **\- Wednesday**  

 

Ryan climbs into the car and shakes the droplets of rain out of his hair as carefully as possible. It's been a real fucking grim afternoon so far. 

"Thanks for picking me up, Caiti." 

"No problem. It's the least I could do after you helped me with that math assignment with the spreadsheets," she grins. She sticks out a hand and turns up the heat. "How'd it go?" 

He shrugs, but he can't fight the smile off: "about expected. I got full legal and physical custody. She can't touch my kids, not again, not ever, it's such a  _relief_. Goddamn." 

Caiti smiles, and it reaches the parts of her glasses where the light glints in corners of the lenses, and she reaches out a closed fist to bop him on the arm. 

"That's  _great_ , Ryan! That's really great, Jack'll be so stoked to hear that. Anything else happen?" 

"Well, it's good news for prosecuting, I guess," he says, pulling on his seatbelt as Caiti puts the car into drive. "It definitely points towards better chances of sentencing. And I kinda commented to the court that I thought she should get evaluated, if she hasn't been already. Nat's mental health was going downhill for a while before we split, but... I don't know. She fell apart, I should've tried to get her to accept some help way sooner." 

Caiti shoots him a disapproving glance. "We've talked about this," she says, "you can't force people to get help like that, and you tried your best." 

Ryan exhales, and it feels like a weight's been lifted from his ribcage. 

"...Yeah," he says. "You're right." 

"What about Jeremy? How're things going with him?" 

He appreciates the change in subject, because it means he doesn't have to expose himself as being more insecure about his ex-wife's wellbeing as he really is. "Jeremy's great. The kids keep getting disappointed when he doesn't stay over and read to them before bed... It's very sweet." 

"And is he treating you right?" 

Ryan stares at Caiti, because her tone is mock-parental, but her line of sight is focused on the rainy road ahead. She doesn’t blink. "...Yeah, 'course he is. I've never met anyone like Jeremy, he's the best person who ever happened to me." 

And it's true. 

Caiti smiles to herself from across the car, murmuring her agreement; Ryan hasn't told Jeremy the verdict yet. He’ll be working so he might not receive it instantly, but Ryan unlocks his cell phone anyway. The background photo is a picture of the couple and the two kids, covered in ketchup and sat by the swimming pool. 

 

 **Ryan Haywood: All clear.**  

 

 **Jeremy** **Dooley** **:** **Knew you could do it. See you tonight.** **♥**  

 

"Doing anything interesting this weekend?" she asks, smirking at the road. 

"Uh, yeah. Going to visit my brother with the kids, my sister's gonna be there as well." 

"Jeremy coming?" 

"Yeah, he's real excited. He's only ever texted Charlie," Ryan says, recalling the Middle Child's Day plan, "so it'll be nice for them to meet in the flesh." 

Caiti beams, and spares him a jubilant glance. "Is this the brother you haven't come out to?" 

"Oh man, yeah. That's the one. It's gonna be an... interesting weekend." 

"Well," she says measuredly, "if he's anywhere as nice as you are, then I bet the whole thing is gonna go  _great_." 

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I hope so... Thanks, Caiti." 

It's time to start talking about stuff. If Jeremy's as serious about him as he's made it out to be, then it's time to get real and start moving on. Even if it starts with a court case and ends with something on Youtube that probably shouldn't be there, he's ready now. 

He's ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do I even begin to thank you for such a wonderful month?
> 
> I've had the best time writing Romance Awareness Month. I had no idea you'd all like it so much. Although I'm probably not going to write a sequel - I think I might have exhausted this particular universe for Jeremwood! - I'd love to see any similar ideas, if anyone writes them. Feel free to run with the concept. >u<
> 
> I have a new writing blog where I update every couple of days with new fic stuff, at [futureboy-ao3](http://futureboy-ao3.tumblr.com/), and there's art, and the ask box is open, and there's coffee what-nots and all sorts.
> 
> I'll see you in the next project, I hope. Thanks for reading. Give my a cheeky author subscription if you like. ♥


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